| You took a hostage with a loaded gun
|
| And this has gone on for too long son
|
| You’re not an artist you’re just a clown
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| You’re the circus when you’re in town
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| You’ve caused a state of confusion
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| Dumbed down the public and created an illusion
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| A magician you sawed your girl in half
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| You might have fooled the crowd
|
| But all I can do is ha ha ha ha ha ha ha
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| Now I can go on for days and days
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| I see right through like you were an x-ray
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| Cracked up
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| Smacked up
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| You better back up I’m about to act up
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| I’m jacked up
|
| You’ve got the gun
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| And you’re killing everything I love
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| You don’t respect it
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| And what you are yeah I reject it
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| You’re just a fashion show
|
| And you shit on everything I know
|
| And now I’m seeing red
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| Cause you pulled the trigger
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| And metal is dead
|
| Don’t need that four leaf clover
|
| Your fifteen minutes, Yeah it’s over
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| But there’ll be more just like you
|
| Always following, thieving and borrowing
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| Dying to find the formula
|
| Man you ain’t Freddy Krueger
|
| You’re just Count Chocula
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| Silly rabbit this ain’t no trick
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| Cause I walk the walk
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| And your minute-made riffs
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| They ride the dick
|
| Metal is dead!
|
| Where in the hell are my microphone fiends
|
| Those real MC’s who spit a hot sixteen
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| Cause everything I’m hearing now sounds the same
|
| Can we please get variety back up in the game
|
| Everybody can’t be Tip or Jeezy
|
| Little John or Ludacris or Young Weezy
|
| Thugs selling drugs like it’s so easy
|
| Sounding weak wack corny and cheesy
|
| They rose lifeless in the shadows of greatness
|
| With vacant eyes they gorge blindly on their own flesh
|
| Making a mockery of the millions they would dare to lead
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| Where once was passion Now only vanity and avarice dwell
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| A puppet show whose masters devour their young with delight
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| And even as they are ground in the mouths of their makers, they sing
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| Songs that are as empty as their words
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| As meaningless as their promises
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| And as dead as their souls |