My youngins get it fucked up when y'all talk about the game
Like it's designed in their favor
Like it ain't outlined for them to waiver
Their rights for a lil' bit of fame

Get in bullshit fights for a lil' name
To get noticed by some niggas that don't give two fucks about you
Tell 'em you don't do the jives and shucks, and they route you to the shelf
See there's no money in good health

So they need you to be sick with it, ill content and delivery niggas
This nation thrives off misery niggas
So if you ain't trying to let your hard times increase your wealth
Niggas keep that progressive shit to yourself

This is the business of buying souls, and we only tryin' to fuck with those who trying to sell them
See, they may see me as an adversary 'cause they know I'm tryin' to tell them
About the forest of artists who grow only to meet industry axes
How they take niggas dreams and write then off in their taxes

Contracts is confusing, but don't worry they'll appoint you a lawyer for you whore you
Loan you funds to fuck your soul make you pay it back and still maintain control of your stroll
Your tracks and your hot ass slow flow
they'll keep you looking good and all that, but no dough

You see when that get a bitch, they got a bitch
And contrary to popular opinion it ain't my sistas that switch
It's my brothers
We the dumb motherfuckers

Hardest niggas in the streets turned industry suckers
'Cause we refused to do the knowledge
Nigga, you can't learn this music game in the streets or in college
So you betta pick up a book or something

Or fuck it, FAB will put it in a hook or something
Hope that you listen to it
Got you pumpin' that poison while they paint them illusionary parades and keep pissin' through it
You pussies don't know the price or the sacrifices that this industry makes real niggas walk

Writer : GOLD, ERNEST
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing