I see a lot mother fuckers talk about gettin money Ha!

All my life I've seen niggas talk rich and cry broke.

I know some of you niggas is starving.

You know the industry fucked up right now.

Record sales in the toilet.

Executives scared to lose their jobs.



Verse1:



You can never hide the truth from Immortal technique;

Niggas is happy to sell a hundred thousand in the first week.

And retailers is right there watching you

Moving extortion Co-op a dollary unit.

The record industry wants a messiah to come again,

So they rape for his masters and his publishing.

How the fuck niggas sell a half a million cd's

But can't sell out S.O.B.'s

While they pay out to play

And I never thought I see the day (never)

When sound scanners are stronger than a disc record

And rappers don't get creative

And just send a mix message

So fuck an emcee battle

The golden era is gone

I treat you niggas like fifty

I won't even respond

Put your moms in the rape room and she can bitch like I'm Saddam

Rush a show and stomp you out during one of your songs

And I'm not a hypocrite because I'm aggressive and violent

I would be a hypocrite if I was peaceful and silent

And I let em get away with the shit that they say

But I treat em like clear channel making em pay for talking reckless

Fuck the charm on your necklace

Because who you down with don't mean shit

When you surrounded and who you goin to get

When you four pounded

You not a boss pussy

You not even a die low

You live in a fucking fantasy smoking hydro

I meal real niggas, divide dough

So lie low and talk to me about disrespected

Because even fat beats rejected my record

And now majors wanna sign me again

Call the niggas I use to know

Try to find me again

I guess Eighty thousand sold will do that you fucking new jack

And I don't need to wear jewelry to prove that

Cuz three apartments a house and fifty acres will do that



Bridge:



Hardcore, underground, hustlin the streets

If you ain't ready to hustle, nigga you don't eat

And if you ain't ready to live for this you shouldn't speak

Because motha fuckas die for this shit every week



Hardcore, underground, hustlin the streets

If you ain't ready to hustle, nigga you don't eat

And if you ain't ready to live for this you shouldn't speak

Because motha fuckas die for this shit every week



Verse 2:



I never be as famous as other rappers in the game is

Because I represent what up against the grain is

Never trust no body minor or major

Cuz a person's real religion is their behavior

I can stare into your soul when I look in your eyes

4th branch of the government still telling lies

Fox news and then New York post is a joke

Nucleus of the yellow journalism yolk

And send someone after me if u don't like me

You'll be the next nigga to take a bullet for whitey

Like the Latinos and blacks in Iraq who come strapped in a wheel chair

When they come back

motherfuck that I'm Peruvian coke

I can tell if your shits fake

I'm the raw version of the crack on your mix tape

So don't hate on this advice that I sent from the grave

Just remember if you sign up to be slaves