[Random]
Yo I heard that you can pick your friends
And pick your nose
But you can't, pick your...
No wait, I think I got that wrong
Alright, well, anyway
It's the now new and improved, RandomBeats
Let's go, uhh, yo
They say it's hard out here like Terrance to shine
Had a drop that'd shine, now I'm droppin the bomb
But the pop and the mom stores is droppin like flies
Just as rough for the popular guys
Got the record shops scared of consignment, look at where the time went
MySpace fans ask me where can they find it?
Sorry gotta hit the iTunes for my tunes
Cause Ran got hit with a monsoon
But we gon' get it done
Ever since Taro went belly up Ran lost a whole grip of funds
Magic goin up in the store
Seein your life's work in the 99 cent bin, it isn't fun
Now the fans say true art is what they want
But you ain't went to a record store in a couple months
Your complaint is that you can't find what you want
My rebu*tal is half of the fun is the hunt
It's a new day, indies the new sign
Gold's the new platinum, the net is the new grind
Every day a new cat be grabbin the mic
But back in the days they had to be tight
I wrote these rhymes on my iPhone and most of these rappers
Come up shorter than my battery life
Cats had the nerve to get mad, when I gave Soulja Boy props
They'd rather see a black teen runnin from the cops
Gettin popped, with a rock, that he chopped on your block
With a Glock, get knocked, if you do, then just stop it
You don't feel the music? That's okay
You ain't supposed to be listenin to the radio no way
Let the kids have it, we underground
Deep in the dirt like Br'er Rabbit and you hoppin mad
But it's not too bad, cause all things must end
And eventually they shall begin again
They made millions off the backs of the innocent kids
From the ghetto, who never saw a benefit
At least Nike woulda put a park in Brooklyn
Or maybe wrote a check to the library for some books and
The record industry just takes and takes
But since Napster they raised the stakes
It's a problem if they can't see no relish
So now they all Russian like Niko Belic - my bad
But if, Euro-a-peein on the top of my head
And callin it rain then that's a sh**ty part of the game
So I'm callin shenanigans, callin the ambulance
RandomBeats a bad monster, that's an anagram
So hand to hand's how I move my projects
I do all of the work I see all of the profits
Seems like logic my man
Cause you know can't nobody push my music like I can
Sell myself? Well hell, I made myself
So if it don't work out I can just blame myself
Why a receiver ain't nuttin, without a QB
A QB without a line then uhh, who's he?
Mike Vick, Randall Cunningham, bearin riches of runnin man
But RandomBeats, we done done it fam
Everybody's a +Critic+, Jay Sherman
But funny I don't make a penny on what they earnin
But I'm, too determined to create my own lane
To concern myself with these lames who the same
But I, place the blame on the fans
The same ones who sit on they hands when they hear a Ran jam
Then go and download my joint fast as they can
And tell they homeboys yo Ran's my man~!
We makin moves, don't get confused
Cause I'm new and improved - HOLLA
Yo one thing I always wondered though
How can somethin be new, AND improved?
Like... that just seems like it's kinda oxymoronic
Like, if somethin is brand new
Then it can't be an improvement off an old thing
AHH, anyway, then I, I had the nerve
To use the term to, title the song
So that was even dumb on my part
ANYWAY MAN! My last parting note on this joint is
Yo stop lettin rappers raise your kids man
F'real
Anything rappers say do, do the opposite
Except for me though, cause I'm a teacher
So I, I know what's good for the kids
SO, you can listen to me
RandomBeats! I'm out