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: Pussy, 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 motherfucking 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 fucking 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 drugs he does and thinks he's imperious

Telling us we fake and pussy, 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 passion 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?