Independently Paid : Short Version - Blueprint

Yeah, uh huh.

C’mon.

Feel that.

That’s that real shit

All that fake shit dead right now.

Like that.

Yo.

You know.

Yeah

First things first

Y’all cats don’t motivate me to write

Y’all motivate me to FIGHT

Harder

In white swarter

These rappers tryin' hard to be martyrs

Or stuck in 1995 and can’t take they rhymes farther

I got a niece, she got a dead beat father

In jail for child support he owes to his daughter

And rap life is like a day time drama

Filled with twists and turns and people without honor

Sometimes I even wonder why I bother with this mission

And don’t nobody really listen

They can’t feel my vision

Unless I’m talkin' bout some club shit or thug shit

Or moving keys state to state on some ole drug shit

I’m sick of seeing cats with dollar signs in their eyes

I’m starting to think motherfuckers want you to lie

They want you to gas them up and tell them that they dope

Tell them they can get signed and that there’s really hope

But they don’t even have a snowballs chance in hell

And makin' a half decent song that would even sell

Cats is really thinkin' that if they got signed

That it would fix all the fucked up problems in their lives

But all the little problems would just get magnified

When you got loot

And you can’t fix them cause you lack the time

So, go for you’re and I’ll go for mine

You make a dollar per record

I make eight for mine

Then quit my day job with a dollar in my pocket

Then have a salary with rap money on top of it

That’s my shit

Independently paid

And every move I make will prove that I’m here to stay

I’m here to stay

I’d like to give a special shout out

To cats sippin' haterade from a wine glass

And cats mad at Print cause I didn’t give 'em shit

All of y’all can kiss my entire ass

I’d like to give another shout out

To the stuck up broads who never call back

And all the ladies that I met while I was out on the road

Best believe it girls that I’m comin' back