[INTRO] Yeah… Everybody wanna be a killer. Everybody wanna be a dealer. Everybody wanna sound dangerous. But nobody wanna tell you who profits from the danger. This ain't hip-hop no more… This is the problem. [VERSE 1] Killer on the corner, dealer by the store, Rapper on the screen telling kids they need more, More guns, more drugs, more bodies on the floor, Then the label cuts the check like, “Give me some more.” Everybody gangster till the consequences knock, Everybody love the violence when it's sitting on the clock, Turn a homicide into a record on the charts, Then wonder why the neighborhood is falling apart. They don't sell the music, they sell the image, Sell a broken generation back to us with a gimmick, Take pain from the hood, put a beat underneath it, Then call it entertainment when the whole world's screaming. And the worst part? The music ain't even good anymore. Same beat. Same flow. Same chains. Same lies, Auto-tune hiding talent while the real sound dies, Everybody got a million views, nobody got a message, Everybody chasing clout, nobody chasing excellence. [HOOK] Killers, drug dealers, industry dealers, Everybody eating while the hood gets weaker, They package the pain, put a price on the speaker, Then call it hip-hop, but it don't sound like either. Killers, drug dealers, label-line schemers, Selling us destruction and calling it freedom, Music got sick, but the industry feeds it, The streets ain't the only problem, the industry needs it. [VERSE 2] I remember when the rapper had something to say, Had to sharpen every bar, had to earn his place, Now somebody mumble eight words on a beat, And they call that a classic 'cause the algorithm agrees. A&R don't care if the record got soul, They care about numbers and who's gonna control, Manufacture beef, manufacture rage, Put a gun in the video, watch the numbers engage. Meanwhile mothers crying, another funeral flyer, Another young kid thinking death makes him higher, Another rapper dead before he reaches his prime, Then everybody posts “R.I.P.” for a like online. [HOOK] Killers, drug dealers, industry dealers, Everybody eating while the hood gets weaker, They package the pain, put a price on the speaker, Then call it hip-hop, but it don't sound like either. Killers, drug dealers, label-line schemers, Selling us destruction and calling it freedom, Music got sick, but the industry feeds it, The streets ain't the only problem, the industry needs it. [VERSE 3] I'm not blaming every rapper, I'm exposing the game, There's legends still breathing life into the name, But corporate control put a price on the soul, Now rebellion gets branded and the culture gets sold. They'll sell you the chain, then they'll sell you the dream, Sell you violence packaged up for the stream, Truth ain't profitable, so they feed you the poison, Then blame the streets when the whole world destroys 'em. [FINAL HOOK] Killers, Drug Dealers Killers, Drug Dealers Killers, drug dealers, industry dealers, Everybody eating while the hood gets weaker, They package the pain, put a price on the speaker, Then call it hip-hop, but it don't sound like either. Killers, drug dealers, label-line schemers, Selling us destruction and calling it freedom, Music got sick, but the industry feeds it, The streets ain't the only problem, the industry needs it. [OUTRO] So don't just blame the killer. Don't just blame the dealer. Look at the people selling the fantasy. Look at the executives. Look at the platforms. Look at the audience. Look at all of us. Because when the culture becomes a product… somebody eventually starts selling the poison. And that's the problem
