Every Record Label Sucks Dick

Every record label sucks dick [x4]
 Every record label, (Every record label)
 They suck dick! (suck dick!)
 Fuck the new clothes, sport shitty jeans, fuck the limousines
 When the ho schemes you end up with no beans
 There's only 50, 000 heads that are true to this
 The rest are clueless to what real hiphop music is
 Plus the labels think that artists are pathetic, I don't sweat it
 If they take the credit I will send them to the medic
 The industry will gas your head up, you ain't shit to them, don't get fed up
 'cuz when you're down and out they won't help you get up
 They sit around creating gimmicks, sky's the limit, but to him it's
 A&R men act like schizophrenics
 Fuck the negative reviews, I sing the blues
 'cuz if I blow up I still lose
 Now how can the musicians be the scholars
 When they're making less than four percent of six dollars?
 Most of the kids that kick a rap just don't deserve opinions, acting like critics
 Looking like Richard Simmons, now they're sporting Timberlands
 And I ain't trying to be accepted, but it's hectic
 When you try to sell you records and your record label don't respect it
 Now all these promotional stunts gets me emotional
 Not hospitable, I'll never recoup so it's not profitable
 And I can end up as white trash living in a trailer park
 Eating tuna fish with my Cheez Whiz
 "So how you'd get your job in the black music department?"
 Since I was growing up that's where my heart went
 I won't be going out like Kurt Cobain, or Tattoo
 "Da plane, da plane!"
 jibba jibba jib
 Shane!
 So if my sales don't exceed the expectations
 My relation-ships will be Uzi clips and decapitations
 'Cuz the fact is, technically, I need a vasectomy
 No pregnancy, kids got the tendency to be sweating me
 So do your own! Them scumbags is making moneybags
 In the meantime, your Karl Kanis turn to rags
 'Cuz labels don't know shitty rappers from any rappers
 So listen rappers, they only know how to pinch a penny, rappers
 I end up bankrupt and penniless, while you remain the rich man
 My fist is up your ass to rip your lips off
 This ain't the rock and roll era, so how could you know what's worse or better?
 Chilling in your polyester sweater
 A big advancement doesn't make the move the wisest
 'cuz Def Jam offered me more loot than Jive did
 And the executives at labels, they about equal to McDonald's workers
 They all down to jerk us, trying to keep us poor on purpose
 They expect that respect that they don't give, so don't think that it's negative
 If you don't want to let a record executive live
 Now pretty bitches wind up giving up they butts
 But I'm used to busting nuts in stank perverted sluts
 Just the thought of getting signed, you masturbated
 Can't you see the industry is gold-plated?
 "He sounds like Ice Cube, let's sign him!
 He sounds like Onyx, let's sign him!
 He sounds like that shit that's hitting, let's sign him!"
 I'd be biting people and spitting blood at the entire music industry