Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song The Artist Pays The Price, artist - 8Ball. Date of issue: 18.05.1998
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
The Artist Pays The Price |
| The artist pays the price so you won’t have to pay |
| (Around the world in a day) |
| If only we would listen to what they have to say |
| We all go through changes to get to where we’re going |
| We have to learn a life of sacrifice (yeah, yeah, yeah) To keep on growin' |
| Yeah |
| Life is for learnin |
| Remember this |
| And learn from life |
| Think about the players in the past who died in sacrifice |
| Some died in wars for a country that oppressed them |
| Some died preachin—prayin for God to bless them |
| I am one of the blessed, born to bring the world poetry |
| Hip-hop, musically—expressing what’s inside of me |
| Some find me entertaining. |
| Some find me marketable |
| A potential Black millionaire so that makes me targetable |
| Low-lifes and fork-tongued devils get easy access |
| Flashin me faces, making empty promises |
| Soggy niggas sign contracts and make deals |
| Rappin bout who they killed |
| Talking bout they keeping it real |
| Hardcore homicidal, kingpins of the century |
| Need to quit rappin and leave this shit to the real MC’s |
| But ain’t no chance |
| Opposing forces got the upper hand |
| Do as they command to keep them from suffering |
| See, I don’t know everything |
| But my opinion I will voice |
| As long as I can choose |
| I’ll choose the right or the wrong choice |
| Addicted to Hip-hop beats |
| And hoes that can’t stay out the streets |
| Tryin to make a dollar |
| Without a nigga havin to rob and cheat |
| Got me hustling |
| Twenty-four-seven |
| Three-sixty-five |
| Coast to coast |
| Mic-checkin |
| Keeping the party alive |
| Engrave my name in the minds of those |
| Who bob to this |
| Slang and rob to this |
| Jack and rob to this |
| Herbs and meditation made a pill when I put it down |
| But individual perception will change each phrase around |
| Different towns |
| Ain’t none of this shit like Orange Mound |
| Players unified, digging on my mellow sound |
| Exec’s |
| Get big ole fat checks |
| For makin deals |
| While soldiers like me in the fields |
| Down there getting killed |
| When this is all over |
| If I could do it again, I do it twice |
| Before and after me, the artist will always pay the price |
| The industry |
| Full of broke niggas tryin to make a comeback |
| Rappin bout that bullshit |
| Over them weak-ass tracks |
| Judging me |
| When around the globe, ain’t nothing the same |
| Think how the world would be if none of this hit had ever changed |
| Ain’t like it used to be when hip-hop belonged to you and me |
| Shit got sugar coated—modified for tv |
| Niggas like me, don’t give a fuck about commercial air time |
| Forced underground, ain’t nothing commercial bout my rhymes |
| Rather be broke or slinging dope than hold my tongue back |
| Niggas who put on acts get they ass beat up and jacked |
| I’m not a killer—just a poet tryin to survive, nigga |
| Given the choice to ride or die, I chose to ride, nigga |
| I’m paying the price for all the real MC’s after me |
| Be a artist, not a slave for the industry |
| I’m paying the price for all the real MC’s after me |
| Be a artist, not a slave for the industry |
| Full of them trees |
| On them Hennesy’s |
| Fuckin with them G’s |