Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Pay Your Dues, artist - BirdapresDate of issue: 31.12.2002
Song language: English
Pay Your Dues |
| You wanna measure up but you come up short |
| You need to understand life ain’t a spectator sport |
| Don’t even talk to me about your trials and tribs |
| Because my crew’s been rapping since you slept in a crib |
| And if you just started making beats somewhat recently |
| Don’t hand me a CD man, don’t even speak to me |
| I’ve been patiently waiting while you fuss and you fidget |
| You played fewer live shows than your hand has digits |
| I kick it fresh, I guess I have experience to thank |
| Cause nobody put me on and pulled me up through the ranks |
| Back in the day I opened up for groups I idolized |
| They didn’t watch me play, I quickly realize |
| That no matter what the level, everybody’s looking upward |
| Been a minute since an A&R took me for supper |
| But I’ve been there and done that, who knows what I’ll get next |
| Drove hours for one rap, played shows to death threats |
| We slept in the trunk of my car at rest stops |
| I’ve played while sick and still gave it my best shot |
| I’ve played in front of crowds from one to twenty thousand |
| I’ve stayed in fine hotels on down to messy houses |
| So give me the mic and then we can get it on |
| This rap shit ain’t a sprint, man to me it’s a marathon |
| I’m probably the wrong man to ask for a hand out (no doubt) |
| Don’t let the door hit you on the way out |
| You don’t know how the rap game go |
| You don’t blow up the spot with your very first show |
| Any old fool can write a rhyme |
| That don’t mean that you have to be hitting the big time |
| Pay your dues (pay your dues now) |
| Pay your dues (pay your dues now) |
| Pay your dues (pay your dues) |
| Pay your dues (pay your dues) |
| They had a garage with a reel to reel machine |
| Mic’d the space up to get the feel the same |
| As they favorite band cause the drummer was skin tight |
| Could barely hear the singer, mic down his wind pipe |
| They played some bars |
| And schools and booze cans |
| Never got love at the local news stands |
| Got together on Wednesdays, maybe on Sunday |
| One way or another, to build up a fan base |
| Decided it was time, to press up a single |
| To sell at shows, while their name got bigger |
| Part time jobs, lump money together |
| Never had a manager or an investor |
| Never went nowhere and broke up after |
| A studio fire burned up the masters |
| All grown up now with kids of they own |
| Who laugh at dad’s picture whenever they’re shown |
| The music stood on it’s own though, it had endurance |
| Copies draw big doe from cats in Europe |
| They sense purity in the deepest obscurity |
| Till it becomes an obsession in Japan and Germany |
| Reissued and compiled, repackaged and restyled |
| Off of some dead single that missed by a mile |
| The band’s confused to hear the same excuse |
| From the lamest dudes who claim they paid their dues |