The Prescription

[Intro] [A distorted, soulful vocal sample plays briefly, then fades as the heavy kick and snare drum pattern begins. A simple, melancholic piano loop enters.] [Sound of a city street: distant sirens, indistinct chatter, followed by a deep, guttural sigh.] [Verse 1] [beat fully kicks in. The bassline enters, providing a low, pulsing rhythm. The piano loop continues, with a subtle hi-hat pattern layered on top.] [Rapped with a steady, deliberate flow. The delivery is somber and a bit cynical.] Yeah, I'm steppin' on the concrete, under city lights' cold glare Headphones on, blockin' out the sirens' blare Listen close, this ain't no hook for a club jam This is a coded message, 'bout the sickness in the promised land They got the white coats and the stethoscopes and sterile smiles so clean But the balance sheet is what's behind the whole damn scene From the cradle to the grave, they're writin' out a prescription Addicted to the profit, a worldwide addiction They pushin' pills for every problem, a solution in a bottle Got you numb to the struggle, feelin' like an empty model Pop a little blue one for your broken heart, a little green one for your fear Forgot about your neighbor who ain't had a proper meal in a year They got the lobbyists in suits, whisperin' in the ear of the senator While the average person's wallet gettin' thinner, and the debt's a terminator They ain't lookin' for a cure, they're lookin' for a client A lifelong subscription, a financial giant. [Chorus] [The beat becomes slightly more energetic. A layered synth pad is introduced to fill out the sound. The bassline remains prominent.] [The rap delivery becomes more forceful and declarative, with a slightly more melodic cadence.] Big Pharma's the dealer, and the world's the street Peddlin' hope in a capsule, bittersweet From the block to the boardroom, the money talks loud Another patent pending, another name in the shroud. The game is rigged, the deck is stacked, the house always wins While the people are just pawns, consumed by their sins. Yeah, Big Pharma's the dealer, and the world's the street They sell you the cure, then make you dependent on the treat. [Instrumental Break] [The drums simplify, maybe just the kick and hi-hat. The piano loop becomes more isolated and prominent. A new, ghostly synth melody drifts over the top.] [A short, spoken word interlude, maybe a quote from a news report or a simple, reflective line.] [Verse 2] [The beat returns to the original Verse 1 pattern. The bassline is back in full. The hi-hats are a bit busier to maintain momentum.] [The rapping style shifts slightly to be more aggressive and direct, with a sharper tone.] See the advertisements on the TV, shiny and so bright Happy families on a hill, bathed in artificial light "Ask your doctor if this pill is right for you," the voice says low and slow But they ain't tellin' you the side effects, the damage and the undertow They'll market a disease that you ain't even sure you got Then offer up the remedy, to keep you on the spot They'll take a simple herb, a folk remedy from the ground And put a corporate stamp on it, and charge you by the pound They'll buy up all the rivals, crushin' independent minds Keepin' the knowledge locked up, for the profit it finds From the pain of the elderly to the stress of the young The narrative is controlled, a song they've already sung And when you finally break free, and you try to get clean They'll tell you that you're sick, part of the machine The game is a cycle, a never-ending loop Sellin' you a feeling, in an endless, desperate group. [Chorus] [Same as the first chorus. The layered synth pad and bassline are strong and full.] [The delivery is the most powerful in the song, with a sense of urgency.] Big Pharma's the dealer, and the world's the street Peddlin' hope in a capsule, bittersweet From the block to the boardroom, the money talks loud Another patent pending, another name in the shroud. The game is rigged, the deck is stacked, the house always wins While the people are just pawns, consumed by their sins. Yeah, Big Pharma's the dealer, and the world's the street They sell you the cure, then make you dependent on the treat. [Outro] [The beat gradually fades out. The drums cut out first, followed by the bassline. The melancholic piano loop returns and plays alone for a few measures. The final sound is the distorted vocal sample from the intro, reversed and slowed down.] [A slow, final spoken word rap, delivered with a sense of resignation but also defiance. Ends with the sigh from the beginning.] So next time you reach for that bottle, just take a good look At the label, and the profit, and the story in the book 'Cause the cure for the sickness ain't always in a pill Sometimes it's in the truth, standin' on your own two feet, Standin' still.