They All Sound The Same Now

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TRACK 093 - THEY ALL SOUND THE SAME NOW
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[INTRO]
(warped trap loop, generic)
Ahn.
(pause)
You know what the crazy thing is?
I can't tell 'em apart no more.
(melody sours)
Swear to God. Same flow. Same ad-libs. Same everything.
Let me show you what I mean.

[HOOK 1]
They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain,
same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name,
I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy,
I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy,
they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill,
everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill,
so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go,
'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow.

[VERSE 1]
(mimicking the generic flow)
Yeah, uh, big racks, uh, new whip, uh, she bad, uh,
same four words in a different order, that's the whole catalog,
everybody's got a Rollie and a story 'bout the trap,
everybody shot a video in the same exact spot,
everybody's got a plug and a cousin in the can,
and a dead homie they only mention for the gram,
and I get it, I get it, the algorithm wants a pattern,
but a pattern ain't a person and a person is what matters,
so I ain't mad at the kids, I'm mad at the machine,
that told 'em be a copy if they wanna be seen,
'cause the culture used to be a forest and now it's a lawn,
and a lawn is just a graveyard that gets mowed at dawn.

[BRIDGE 1]
(the beat corrupts  -  hi-hats stutter)
You ever notice you can skip a whole album
and not miss one bar?
(stutter)

[HOOK 2]
They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain,
same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name,
I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy,
I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy,
they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill,
everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill,
so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go,
'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow.

[VERSE 2]
(breaking it apart, aggressive)
I came up on Rakim, on KRS, on G Rap,
on a hundred thousand hours of a pen and a rap,
and I ain't sayin' that to flex, I'm sayin' that to explain,
that a flow is a fingerprint and a gimmick is a chain,
so when they tell you "dumb it down,'cause the people don't wanna think,"
that's a man tellin' a craftsman "put the hammer back, don't swing,"
nah, nah, nah, I'd rather starve on the real,
than eat on a plate that they set with a plastic fork and a deal,
'cause the copy gets forgotten and the original gets stole,
and the culture keeps the recipe but throws away the soul,
so I'm the last of a dying kind, or the first of a new,
either way I'm in the booth and I ain't rhymin' like you.

[BRIDGE 2]
(the trap loop fully dies. Silence.)
I'd rather be the one they can't copy
than the one they don't have to.
(silence)

[HOOK 3]
They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain,
same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name,
I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy,
I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy,
they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill,
everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill,
so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go,
'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow.

[VERSE 3]
(clean, hard, Whiteside's real voice)
So here's the difference, one breath, flat on the snare,
I don't need a drum pattern to tell you I'm there,
the beat can drop out and I'm still on the grid,
'cause the flow's in my chest and it's been there since a kid,
so play the generic loop, let it run, let it rot,
I'll outlive the whole trend with a pen and a thought,
and when the lawn turns back into a forest, they'll see,
the ones who copied the wave drowned under the sea,
and the ones who made the wave? They're still standin' on top,
that's the difference between a stream and a drop,
so bet on the craftsman, bet on the slow,
bet on the man who don't sound like the radio.

[OUTRO]
(the loop returns, but now it's detuned and dying)
Same, same, same...
Nah.
Different. Whiteside. Paper Crown.
(the loop dies completely)

4295/7500

================================================================= TRACK 093 - THEY ALL SOUND THE SAME NOW ================================================================================ . [INTRO] (warped trap loop, generic) Ahn. (pause) You know what the crazy thing is? I can't tell 'em apart no more. (melody sours) Swear to God. Same flow. Same ad-libs. Same everything. Let me show you what I mean. [HOOK 1] They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain, same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name, I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy, I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy, they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill, everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill, so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go, 'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow. [VERSE 1] (mimicking the generic flow) Yeah, uh, big racks, uh, new whip, uh, she bad, uh, same four words in a different order, that's the whole catalog, everybody's got a Rollie and a story 'bout the trap, everybody shot a video in the same exact spot, everybody's got a plug and a cousin in the can, and a dead homie they only mention for the gram, and I get it, I get it, the algorithm wants a pattern, but a pattern ain't a person and a person is what matters, so I ain't mad at the kids, I'm mad at the machine, that told 'em be a copy if they wanna be seen, 'cause the culture used to be a forest and now it's a lawn, and a lawn is just a graveyard that gets mowed at dawn. [BRIDGE 1] (the beat corrupts - hi-hats stutter) You ever notice you can skip a whole album and not miss one bar? (stutter) [HOOK 2] They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain, same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name, I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy, I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy, they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill, everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill, so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go, 'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow. [VERSE 2] (breaking it apart, aggressive) I came up on Rakim, on KRS, on G Rap, on a hundred thousand hours of a pen and a rap, and I ain't sayin' that to flex, I'm sayin' that to explain, that a flow is a fingerprint and a gimmick is a chain, so when they tell you "dumb it down,'cause the people don't wanna think," that's a man tellin' a craftsman "put the hammer back, don't swing," nah, nah, nah, I'd rather starve on the real, than eat on a plate that they set with a plastic fork and a deal, 'cause the copy gets forgotten and the original gets stole, and the culture keeps the recipe but throws away the soul, so I'm the last of a dying kind, or the first of a new, either way I'm in the booth and I ain't rhymin' like you. [BRIDGE 2] (the trap loop fully dies. Silence.) I'd rather be the one they can't copy than the one they don't have to. (silence) [HOOK 3] They all sound the same now, same beat, same chain, same pain, same mumble on the same hook, same everything but the name, I'd rather hear a broken voice than a perfect copy, I'd rather hear a fight than a flex that's gotten sloppy, they all sound the same now, it's a factory, it's a mill, everybody chasin' the same trend up the same hill, so when you hear a real one, hold it, don't let it go, 'cause a real one's gettin' rarer than a Fontana snow. [VERSE 3] (clean, hard, Whiteside's real voice) So here's the difference, one breath, flat on the snare, I don't need a drum pattern to tell you I'm there, the beat can drop out and I'm still on the grid, 'cause the flow's in my chest and it's been there since a kid, so play the generic loop, let it run, let it rot, I'll outlive the whole trend with a pen and a thought, and when the lawn turns back into a forest, they'll see, the ones who copied the wave drowned under the sea, and the ones who made the wave? They're still standin' on top, that's the difference between a stream and a drop, so bet on the craftsman, bet on the slow, bet on the man who don't sound like the radio. [OUTRO] (the loop returns, but now it's detuned and dying) Same, same, same... Nah. Different. Whiteside. Paper Crown. (the loop dies completely)

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