[Intro: Prince] When you give it to somebody like a Rolling Stone or a Vibe and they start critiquing it, then, your perception changes, but that’s looking through someone else’s eyes

[Verse 1: Diesel Clockwork]

Don’t know how to act

You know I be too attractive

Busy stating facts

Everybody wanna tap-in

Called my shit whack

But he didn’t call it average

Copped a q of pack

Got me moving like a rabbit

Digital

No more CDs, no more physical

Lyrical

I spit scripture like its biblical

Cynical

I popped a pill, I feel invincible

Pitiful

Your social life is fucking fictional

I’m an animal

Jaw dropping moves, pick up your mandible

No cannibal, easy to digest it like its Danimals

Understandable

Rеached and touched the bеat and now its flammable

Too casual

Fake IDs for cheap, this bitch is scannable

Hit the bus, OT, like I’m Matt Tkachuk

Up by, up by twelve, tell me am I fast enough?

Busy running pockets, that’s a massive dub

Super Shady, know that karma gonna mess you up

[Interlude: Prince]

The music industry isn’t being run by musicians, its being run by accountants and lawyers. I don’t know if they’d know real music if they’d heard it. And ultimately, real music is just a microphone and a spotlight

[Verse 2: Diesel Clockwork]

Meet me where I’m at

Hip that I’m a man of action

Busy stacking racks

All these labels wanna cash-in

Don’t overreact

Pen to paper, get a fraction

They don’t got your back

They just want a transaction

Listen close

Do my best to paint a visual

Imbecile

If you sell your soul then you’ll be miserable

Principle

Call it a deal, I call it criminal

Typical

Brand new artist desperate to be visible

Got so many scars, I’m like Black Noir

Was so sick of wasting time, I had a heart-to-heart

From the start, I could tell that it would be hard

It’s the hand we’re dealt, but who the fuck in charge of the cards?

Between you and I, I think I’ve got some staying power

One day I’m feeling great, the next day I’m a Debbie downer

So much mixing, I straight turned my ears to cauliflower

Son of my father, Drown my sorrows at the happy hour

[Outro: Prince]

If you ask any artist, the music is a success, upon creation. We gauge success based upon, what we feel, in our hearts. Minds should be used for what they’re made for, filing cabinets