The
MC,
Golden
Child,
We
Crafty
Yo
G, I had this crazy dream last night man
The world was upside down yo
Everybody was trying to get in the industry
All I could say was
I swear y 'all, where's the fans y
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands y
You rap, and it's produced, one,
ah, shut the fuck up
It's like I went to sleep last night
and things were all fine
Woke up, all of a sudden, everybody rhymes,
that's how this shit seems
Every time I turn around, all I hear is,
yo, let me spit sixteen
Is it me, or do I got a sign on
my forehead that says
Wanna get signed?
Just rhyme, go ahead
All this rappin' got me stressin',
I wonder if this only happens in my profession
Like when
Jordan had the number one spot
You think they ran up on him, like
You gotta see my jump shot
I don't know, maybe it's just me
But you should need a license
to call yourself a
MC
You must be joking, right?
You ain't dope for tight
And people had the last
night at the open mic
When they called for heads
to go up and spit
The whole club got on stage
Ain't that some shit?
I swear y 'all,
where's the fans y 'all?
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands y
You rap, manage,
produce
I be platinum, believe your ears
If I sold every demo I received in the last
three years I ain't bragging,
but I been around the world
touring
You never left your house,
you just stay on
the forums
Open for criticism, every time I spit it
But who the fuck died and made
you the head critic?
Be the ones with no talent,
whining how?
Always got something to
complain about, like
Simon
Cowell
I would've made the first verse the third
More ad -libs than before the
chorus had a bridge
Like you got the formula for making a hit
Only time you ever drop
something nasty is taking a shit
If you got something to say, make it legit
But it seems like these bastards
ain't gonna quit
See they'll diss you,
knowing that they raps ain't official
Turn around and be like, can
I do a track with you?
I swear, y 'all, where's the fans, y 'all
Ain't nobody even sittin'
in the stands, y
You rap and it's produced
One, uh, shut the fuck up
I swear, y where's the fans, y
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands, y
You rap and it's produced
One, uh, shut the fuck up
I know you feel like every day
you get a big close -up
In your
Boom
Dolo, spittin' the
Chase poster
It's cool to chase dreams,
but I'd advise
You play it safe, don't quit your 9 to 5
That's just reality, stop duckin' it
Like eatin' steak with a butter knife,
you ain't cuttin' it
Oh, cuz he your cousin?
You got him on the track?
Demo didn't even make it to
the bottom of the stack
Sick of so -called producers,
y 'all get tired
Kick the same sales pitch,
yo, my shit is fire
If that's true, get your turn to see me
But your beats ain't even
hot enough to burn a
CD
They never fail to blow my high
Talkin' bout I manage so
-and -so with it, blah -blah -blah
I sign autographs, shake hands,
and never think
Cause nowadays, fans are damn near extinct
I swear y 'all, where's the fans y
Ain't nobody even sittin' in the stands y
You rap, manage, produce,
one, ah, shut the fuck up
I swear y 'all,
where's the fans y 'all?
Ain't nobody even sittin'
in the stands y 'all
You rap, manage, produce, one,
ah, shut the fuck up
Where they at?
Nobody.
Where they at?
Nobody.