Jackin’ for Decibels

[Kevlaar 7]
You've been at it for years, paper pads, ink pens
Studio time in tears, not to mention the blood
Sending prayers above, the hard times you endured
Through the hip-hop crack, you love opening major artist shows
Not looked at us one of the pros, you still got us grounds
Being featured on Lyricist Lounge, stretch growth, your head pounds
Niggas by your house licking rounds
Praying you'll get the luck to escape the higher ground
'Cause you're growing, and the people is liking your sound
They think you're a new star found, you got the Unsigned Hype
Niggas try to bite but they don't know with a couple of more shows
We'll see how the ticket sales grow
Your time is coming, you're eager to sign to a label
Any one would do, as long they're paying you
And the box is playing you
You thinking you're blowing up
But your money, this small time company is fucking up
I want my money, where's my check? (Next week)
That's what you said last week and the week before that, see
(To this I don't anyone would pay you)
Dude fuck this label, I'm jacking you and give me the safe to
I should shoot you in the temple but I just bust you in the leg duke
POP!, attempted murder, eating soy bean burgers and lifting weights
Three years, May 27th, your release date
I'm gon' get off on a new foot, job ap, and believe in music
Go home and write lyrics, my write hand I abuse it
Y'all took my pride and bruised it, crooked record company fable's
Be smart with my heart and chose some much more respectable label
Careful, don't let the conniver label bullet graze you

[Bronze Nazareth]
I never knew that this life would be so hard
Music fuse width from the contention of vocal cords
I hope to define morals with this weapon stronger than the sword
But my knees I've bruised for praying to the Lord for a re-cause
Somehow my piece of mind turned to your piece of mind
Wanted first of the month just from Hype Unsigned
But shit is hectic, my wrist laggered off from writing the message
Five mics my innerceptic, but I'm my own skeptic
You're paying me to pay you back after laying my intelligence on wax
When it's this level I strive to perform that
MAN FUCK THAT!, I guess I just gotta go independent
Since you're talking this bullshit while you're pushing me back 'til December
And I'm the most venomous lyricist you could remember
Had a five star album done in one fucking week
Got your manager and CEOs kissing my ass cheek
But now the outlook is bleak, bitch ass turned to a new leaf
Got a nigga who could make bitches dance instead of spitting verbal heat
WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT? Thought we was down niggas with rap?
Now I'm burning on the back 'cause you wife wants a singing contract
She'll blast you, clack-clack, hold on, let me put this hammer back
You are not worth, never reaching my object
Just gimme my last check and I'll leave with my respect
And I might not blow up 'cause the parties my tracts won't show up
But I'm content with lyrics that keep minds from corrupt
What? What? What? *echo*