[Intro]
The Emcee
Golden Child
We Crafty...
Yo G I had this crazy dream last night man
The world was upside down yo
Everybody was tryin' to get in the industry
All I could say was...
[Hook]
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
[Verse 1]
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 the sh** seems
Everytime I turn around all I hear is "yo let me spit sixteen"
Is it me or do I gotta sign on my forehead
That says "wanna get signed? just rhyme go head!"
All this rapping got me stressing
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 jumpshot
I don't know maybe its just me
But you should need a license to call yourself a emcee
You must be joking right? You ain't dope or tight
And peep what happened 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 sh**
[Hook]
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
[Verse 2]
I'd be platinum believe ya 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 ya house you just stay on the forums
Open for criticism everytime I spit it
But who the f** 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 and before the chorus add a bridge
Like you got the formula for making a hit
Only time you ever drop something nasty is taking a sh**
If you got something to say make it legit
But it seems like these ba*tards ain't gonna quit
See they'll dis you knowing that their raps ain't official
Turn around and be like can I do a track with you
[Hook]
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
[Verse 3]
I know you feel like everyday you get a bit closer
In your room dolo spitting to Jay's poster
Its cools to chase dreams but I'd advise
You play it safe don't quit ya 9 to 5
That's just reality stop ducking it
Like eating steak with a bu*terknife you ain't cutting it
Oh cause he ya 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 sh** is fire"
If that's true get ya turn to see me
But ya beats ain't even hot enough to burn a CD
They never fail to blow my high
Talking 'bout I manage so and so and did blah blah blah
I sign autographs shake hands and never think
Cause nowadays fans are damn near extinct
[Hook]
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
I swear ya'll where's the fans ya'll
Ain't nobody even sitting in the stands ya'll
You rap? manage? produce? what?
Aw shut the f** up
Where they at...
Nobody...
Where they at...
Nobody...