Lyrics Murda the Mainstream - K Rino

Murda the Mainstream

Yeah
We coming for ya
Underground uprising
Muthafucka it’s too late
It’s' too late
It’s too late
It’s too late
Let’s
Uh, if you scared don’t ride with me
Cause any second I just might react violently
Every month every year it’s the same thing
So fuck it murda the mainstream
Specialize and add tracks, this ain’t the rap pack
When I’m coming at you better duck like Aflac
Focusing on your bottom lip and then distract that
Rip it across like the flap on a snapback hat
You can’t stop me every month I’m a come
And I’m a keep on hitting licks like I was punching my tongue
Try’na be victorious against something I brung
Is like running a marathon with a dysfunctional lung (come on now)
I just laughed when I watch the awards
Other than a couple legends all that I see is frauds
Real music coming back those some dissident odds
Women wearing slut clothes and men dressing like broads
Next year don’t put no pants on, order you a gown
Homeboy you ain’t no motherfuckin' artist you a clown
You a slave to the Master and you still in this trap
Equivalent to a dummy on a ventriloquist slap
Come on now
We glorify strippin' we glorify pimpin'
We glorify sniffing coke and downgrading women
They plans for you to be stupid our enemies know
You ain’t a falloff pimp you just a industry hoe
Yeah I know you offended when I say it, it hurts
You don’t know the game let me show you the way that it works
The record label sign new artists then push and promote
Commercial dance songs, freak songs and songs about dope
They pay the radio to play the shit and put it on blast
Next thing you know your five year old daughter is bouncing her ass
And your son is at a club doing a feminine dance
With an extra small shirt on and some pink ass pants
CEO’s in on it, they denied they lying
You a damn fool if you don’t see the shit is designing
And I’m knowing you probably thinking «so what we paid»
But if he gave yo ass a million think how much he made
Fool
See I believe in that secret meeting that left the game crushed
Truth be told I don’t blame the industry I blame us
We let money cover the fact that these cats is evil
We lost control as artists and parents and his people
See sometimes it’s alright to dwell in the past
Even conscience rappers these days be selling they ass
No lie, chasing the high cause the feeling is good
The influence of bullshit music is killing the hood
Any money that they do get, they give it right back
We in the ghetto struggling daily we ain’t living like that
They kill the music that would breed the intelligent minds
Singles and rappers throwing up secret endevilish signs
Don’t be fooled by the image and video represented
The main is cars, all his women and the mansion is rented
You serving time on the label I’m suspending your sentence
This here the official underground decoration of independence
Yeah