Pop that pistol fill your body leave me last man standing uh
Slip right by your sight line f*ck you up and leave you panicked uh
This a metaphor for music and obsessive ranking uh
Streams don't matter when i got the work ethic advantage uh
F*cking done with that i learned to not compare my growth
Labels gonna know my name they waiting for my next approach
Sick of all you fake depressed kids talking bout the f*cking rope
You don't know shit bout depression and sure ain't f*ckin' broke
I don't wanna discredit anybody with issues
I've just an issue with the fake shit we let it continue
And yet these rappers do nothing but preach the drugs they misuse
They jerk each others music off someone get them a tissue
I don't really understand how it's a community
Someone makes a rumour now that guy is under scrutiny
F*ck that cancel culture bullshit all another ruse to me
Hurt a human take away their passion
F*ckin' lunacy
Been through that torture had me heartbroken for f*cking weeks
Lost a load of friends and felt more useless than a mozambique
Took me even longer just to realize that i'm so unique
Only at the point of confidence due to my new techniques
The guide you need to overcome is out your comfort zone
You'll get this feeling of isolation you're all alone
You feel you're working hard to keep your failed career afloat
But then a burst of motivation in the studio
Too many people lose their lives to f*ckin' cancel culture
We lose some talent but the labels get on them like vultures
You can't just let a dead musician f*ckin' rest in peace?
You gotta milk that bastard drier with the unreleased
I know this song is such a bold statement about the world
Not every rapper after death has had their craft disturbed
Not every dead musician has the red carpet unfurled
I think that all musicians need their legacies returned