(Hook)
Yo, they wave that stack, a milli in your grill,
"You finally made it," but the contract's a kill.
The advance ain't free money, it's how they get the drop,
Record goes platinum, still in the red, workin' like a sweatshop,
They own your masters, your talent, and your merchandise,
This is the label you've been waitin' for, now you're worth more dead than alive.
(Verse 1)
Yo, young blood, starvin', lookin' for the come up,
Spittin' fire, tryna show the world what's up.
Studio grindin', day and night, tryna shine,
Lookin' for a lick, tryna get signed.
Social media lit, buildin' the hype,
Hustlin' hard, stayin' on point, payin' the price.
He sees the fame, the stacks, the street cred,
Contract's a trap, fine print misled.
Dreams of a mansion, whips, and the charts,
Unaware of the vultures, the sharks with dark hearts.
He just wants to flex, bless the game with his skill,
The industry's a jungle, kill or be killed
(Hook)
Yo, they wave that stack, a milli in your grill,
"You finally made it," but the contract's a kill.
The advance ain't free money, it's how they get the drop,
Record goes platinum, still in the red, workin' like a sweatshop,
They own your masters, your talent, and your merchandise,
This is the label you've been waitin' for, now you're worth more dead than alive.
(Verse 2)
Sig on the dotted line, the ink still wet,
Livin' the dream, but he ain't seen nothin' yet.
Stacks in his pocket, feelin' like a don,
First album drops, but the label's on his lawn.
No sleep, no chill, the schedule's insane,
Handlers and suits running his game
Every move planned, every word rehearsed,
The freedom he craved? Now it's reversed.
The paper ain't flowin', the label takes its cut,
Empty promises echo, trust is corrupt.
Trapped in the game, a puppet on a string,
Missin' the days when he used to bring
The heat, the flow, before the fame took hold,
Now the industry owns him, it's a story told.
(Bridge)
Yo, thought I'd be iced out, livin' lavish and free,
Now I'm drownin' in debt, this game's a mockery.
All this fake shine, the fronts, the bling ain't gold,
My fire fadin', my soul gettin' cold.
This music, my love, now just a bizness deal,
Contracts and lawyers, a pain I can't conceal.
(Outro)
Millions owed, press.ure's on,
Lost in the game, the dream is gone
This music biz, a crooked game,
Left him broken, not the same.
Darkness creepin', dimmin' out the light,
Contemplatin' the edge, callin' it a night.
But deep inside, a voice pleads for peace,
Gotta make a choice, find release.
Rise above, or lose his voice,
In this dirty game, there is no choice.
(Hook)
Yo, they wave that stack, a milli in your grill,
"You finally made it," but the contract's a kill.
The advance ain't free money, it's how they get the drop,
Record goes platinum, still in the red, workin' like a sweatshop,
They own your masters, your talent, and your merchandise,
This is the label you've been waitin' for, now you're worth more dead than alive.
(
