At What Cost?

Ooh

Ooh (Hahahaha)

Yeah

Ooh, oh

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma ain’t been earned

I realize my sacrifice don’t mean sh!t

‘Til my masters burn

All of this sh!t down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn, oh

Yeah

We’ve been rappin’ for pennies for half of a century

Laughin’ to mask the fact that I’m baskin’ in envy

Mastered the craft, now they use my masters against me

Advance me some cash- after taxes, I’m practically empty

Slowly losin’ my passion, the path of an emcee

Got me gaspin’, passin’ the Henny and graspin’ the semi

Niggas think ’cause I dropped a classic I’m doin’ better, like I got a slew of cheddar

If only you knew my thoughts of pursuin’ a new endeavor

They sayin’, “GRIP, you can’t give up on the music, never

‘I quit’ is somethin’ you could never say!”

It’s funny, they act like I just started rappin’ yesterday

Fact of the matter is, you n!ggas just started pressin’ play, huh

I met a man who’s pupils were dollar signs

He made a deal that promised I won’t be forgot in time

But here’s the catch: every single rhyme you jot is mine

Not a problem? Fine, just put your name on this dotted line:

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma ain’t been earned

I realize my sacrifice don’t mean sh!t

‘Til my masters burn

All of this sh!t down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn, oh

Yeah

Product of the madness sold as product to the masses

From poverty, we bastards, so we flashin’ in high fashion

Never learned cash money, so when earned cash money

We burned cash money, ghetto stars turned crash dummies

In foreign cars that’s leased and Audemars with links

We had to buss down for all them times a n!gga had to bus it

Or spent like half the budget to put some gas in the bucket

Down to your last “Like, f**k it” if I was a lad who’s dad had duckets

Would I give the biz the green light?

If I knew the words, I sing, might put me on a string like puppets

Controlled by Geppetto from ghetto to ghetto

Kiss your hood goodbye and tell Hollywood, “Hello”

But old habits die hard and, where I’m from, we die young

‘Cause we can’t let bygones be bygones, so we buy guns

And when you caught slippin’, they gon’ make a killin’ off your killin’

And the cycle continues for your children, d**n

There’s some confusion about nooses

Guess our lessons ain’t been learned

There’s a contusion in our music

Guess our trauma ain’t been earned

I realize my sacrifice don’t mean sh!t

‘Til my masters burn

All of this sh!t down to the ground

Until ownership gets its turn, oh