Still Nameless

Sauce Is Matisse  Buy

 The easy, fast & fun way to learn how to sing:

These are my bangers, this is my playlist 
These are my hits, but bitch I'm not famous 
This is what I'm talking bout, the mainstream hates this 
The freaks are all shameless leeches and I'm nameless 

Good god I love the Underground, bury me now 
Carry me out down that scary aisle and marry me, Sound 
So now we bounce out to the very town where terriers howl 
At a fair and full moon, they've had it being human for now 
I would dig my own grave if it kept me out the mainstream 
Cuz I know they would hate me, so why should I safe? See 
I'm not about that "awesome" debauchery, that's a lame scene 
Encouraging these late teens to put their faith in fake dreams 
And go with the flow, so I'd rather spit this sick shit 
As in I'm in this music institution as its patient 
I'm patient, say shit, these rappers lacking patience 
All hoping to blow, but I hope they know most of em ain't shit 
So I stay content with my position in this hospital 
While I watch all these cocky bullshit artists hit their obstacles 
Then fall a full flight of stairs down cuz of all their gaudy gold 
It's comical, cuz all this time I'm rocking in my Pop Cult 

It's hopeless, nobody shows love to vocals in dope cuts 
Unless it's a chrome-studded colloquial faux thug 
These folks wouldn't know ruckus if ruckus was known fun 
These fuckers just flow tons of this rubbish and blow blunts 
No, I don't wanna listen bout the bitches you did last night 
And liquor? Pshh, go figure, I figured you'd get your "cash right"
I'm not interested in your triggers or your gat fights 
Your clapping's a sack of crap, is that your murder rap? Psych 
You're fibbing undercover like you're Gus and Shawn 
And I'm a sick motherfucker like I'm ill and fucking your moms 
I'd like the bricks, all your drugs, so I can have fun with the law 
You run shit hard on your block? Or are you nothing but fraud
Fucking come on, if I was into shit they played on the radio 
Hey the labels would pay me the dough to say shit I ain't even know 
Lame freaks would play me at home with ladies while baking and stoned 
But I'd rather play me alone and say that I hate em, ya know

All my underground artists, where your studios at
I said all my underground artists where your studios at
Are you bootleg and basement when doing your rap
Don't be ashamed you ain't "made it," your music's intact 
And you don't answer to nobody, your flow is your own hobby 
You're focused and dope but mostly alone at your own party 
It's hardly a party when the majority owns Barbie 
But knowing that your soul hasn't been sold to copy boasts art 
See this is real shit, and a lot of hits are sellout 
You sell embellished albums to your crowds? Get the hell out 
Cuz I'm ready to yell now and belt this out as swelled sound 
You'll hear it well and loud even though I dwell in the Underground

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Written by: Sauce Is Matisse

Lyrics © DistroKid

Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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    "Still Nameless Lyrics." STANDS4 LLC, 2020. Web. 4 Dec. 2020. <>.

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