HHSolidBeats - Why? lyrics

I'm so sick and tired of modern rap I'm going crazy There's no rainy days no more, only blue skies and daisies Nobody writing no more, rappers are getting lazy Too much focus on partying, no one amaze me In a very long time, records only seem to repeat The same speech: p**y, money, weed, there is no more discrete Puns mixed in between two neat simile's No more heat through the speakers when rappers hop on the beat Rappers rapping about new motherf**ing dance moves Trying to trend on twitter, hoping to advance to Facebook and Vine to claim and gain fame, it ain't the same As back in the day, it's a shame to even call it the rap game Listening to trap thinking, at least they try And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? When they hop on the beat, all they do is lie And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Ghost writers run the game, but rappers still deny Then play it off like it's visions from they eyes And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Fake rappers are signed, I'm just wondering Why? Most of these so-called rappers are just f**ing pussies There's no beefs no more, no one being pushy And creating competition for the top position No one's mission is to be the best, there's no ambition In rapper's vision, they content livin' in the condition They have been given, it's the end of their expedition Once they make it big, they've got everything they've ever wanted So they let their game start rustin' as they get blunted Every night, suddenly, they went from somethin' down to nothin' Music is punted and matters less, they not huntin' To get better, they ain't staying up all night, they don't treasure Rap for rap, cause they're the center of attention when they enter So they feel no pressure to sever the mic with clever Bars and weather the lesser MC's, they enjoy the pleasure Rap brings when you're famous, they'll never show the same effort But I got bags under my eyes like I underlined the letter Hard on my grind, writin' rhymes, my design is fine But then I find rappers lyin' saying they wrote each line I just sigh cause I try so hard to define myself inside These lines, they grind, get signed, and sellout, I just wonder Why? Listening to trap thinking, at least they try And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? When they hop on the beat, all they do is lie And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Ghost writers run the game, but rappers still deny Then play it off like it's visions from they eyes And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Fake rappers are signed, I'm just wondering Why? Most rappers won't take what I say serious Sayin, "Oh this dumb white kid's probably delerious From all the d** he does and thinks he's imperious Telling us we fake and p**y, he ain't got experience" But I ain't famous, don't need to be to see the destruction Done to the game over the years, it seems the reduction May be too far for reconstruction to make production Function like it was in the past, where only real rappers Mattered Fake rappers made laughter, each rapper tried to master Rap, now the focus for rappers is getting their pockets fatter And they are, but their pa**ion towards music is dying They stopped climbing, no more rising, no more supplying What they rhyming, instead they buying 'em and denying It's ghost wrote ~ I guess entertainment means blatantly lying ~ And I know there's still real rappers not just rapping for paper Yea, they make less money, but at least they ain't fakers Listening to trap thinking, at least they try And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? When they hop on the beat, all they do is lie And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Ghost writers run the game, but rappers still deny Then play it off like it's visions from they eyes And I'm just sitting here, wondering, Why? Fake rappers are signed, I'm just wondering Why?