[Grand Puba]
Everything was good,
we signed up on the dotted line
Bullshit advancement think
in everything was fine
Up in the studio workin every
night and day
For some strange reason,
the work don't match the pay
Now I'm feelin like a slave,
Kunta Kente
The A&R tellin me, what we can't say
Brand Nubian y'all on some
different shit be
It's gon' be kinda hard to get
y'all on MTV, yeah
Now we on a roll,
promo tryna blow (Uh- huh)
Family can't see 'em,
livin off bullshit pediem
Runnin around the country,
assed- out and half- naked
Three niggaz splittin a dollar-
fifty off a record
Listen here yo,
this shit here better blow
'cause we ain't gon' see no paper
till they get back all they dough
From the studio,
photo shoots and dough for clothes
Ad vancement and shit,
and not to mention videos
The way we gon' eat,
then we gotta do these shows
I'ma keep it real witcha,
that's how this shit goes
The name of the game is "tough
luck" if you don't know
I wish somebody woulda schooled
me a long time ago
About the samplin and shit
(Uh- huh)
How much those artists get
The mechanicals of royalties
and publishin and splits
We was happy y'all just
being on tour (Yeah)
Until we learned the game,
then the attitudes inflamed
Household names,
pockets didn't match the fame
And at the same time drop
knowledge for your brain
Before you sit down and sip the
Cris' and celebrate (Yeah)
Be sho' fo' sho' nigga that you got
yo' business straight
'cause once you sign on the
dotted line it's too late
For the next five years,
the recors label got yo' fate