Buckwild - Every Record Label s**s Dick lyrics

[Hook] Every record label s**s dick [x4] Every record label (every record label) They s** dick! (s** dick!) [Verse 1] f** the new clothes, sport sh**ty jeans, f** the limousines When the ho schemes you end up with no beans There's only 50,000 heads that are true to this The rest are clueless to what real hip hop music is Plus the labels think that artists are pathetic, I don't sweat it If they take the credit I will send them to the medic The industry will gas your head up, you ain't sh** to them, don't get fed up Cause when you're down and out they won't help you get up They sit around creating gimmicks, sky's the limit, but to him it's Nothing, A&R men act like schizophrenics f** the negative reviews, I sing the blues Cause if I blow up I still lose [Hook] [Verse 2] Now how can the musicians be the scholars When they're making less than four percent of six dollars? Most of the kids that kick a rap just don't deserve opinions, acting like critics Looking like Richard Simmons, now they're sporting Timberlands And I ain't trying to be accepted, but it's hectic When you try to sell you records and your record label don't respect it Now all these promotional stunts gets me emotional Not hospitable, I'll never recoup so it's not profitable And I can end up as white trash living in a trailer park Eating tuna fish with my Cheez Whiz "So how you'd get your job in the black music department?" Since I was growing up that's where my heart went I won't be going out like Kurt Cobain, or Tattoo "Da plane, da plane!" jibba jibba jib, Jane! So if my sales don't exceed the expectations My relation-ships will be Uzi clips and decapitations Cause the fact is, technically, I need a vasectomy No pregnancy, kids got the tendency to be sweating me So do your own! Them scumbags is making moneybags In the meantime, your Karl Kanis turn to rags Cause labels don't know sh**ty rappers from any rappers So listen rappers, they only know how to pinch a penny, rappers I end up bankrupt and penniless, while you remain the rich man My fist is up your a** to rip your lips off This ain't the rock and roll era, so how could you know what's worse or better? Chilling in your polyester sweater A big advancement doesn't make the move the wisest Cause Def Jam offered me more loot than Jive did [Hook] [Verse 3] And the executives at labels, they about equal to McDonald's workers They all down to jerk us, trying to keep us poor on purpose They expect that respect that they don't give, so don't think that it's negative If you don't want to let a record executive live Now pretty b**hes wind up giving up they bu*ts But I'm used to busting nuts in stank perverted s*uts Just the thought of getting signed, you masturbated Can't you see the industry is gold-plated? "He sounds like Ice Cube, let's sign him! He sounds like Onyx, let's sign him! He sounds like that sh** that's hitting, let's sign him!" God forbid I get HIV I'd be biting people and spitting blood at the entire music industry [Hook]