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letra de mainstream - the etherealist

[verse 1: the etherealist]
f-ck the mainstream on the real
these mother-f-ckers don’t own a iota of sk!ll; what the deal?
it’s obvious these rappers just hit the jackpot
it’s pot luck: they was just the right time, the right spot
talking nothing but the same, old bullsh-t
cars, bling and b-tches what they make a career with
i’m f-cking p-ssed: they making milli’s off of mixtapes
sh-t-scapes of waste that they just laid in six days
f-cking d-ck-slaves bragging ’bout p-ssy earnt
can’t even make it off the sofa cause they f-ck with purp
braindead; talking sh-t on the beat
lobotomy rap; they lucky not to sh-t in their sleep
a million rappers k!ll the mainstream on the day-to-day
it’s cray. who the f-ck is buying sh-t put out by 2 chainz?
f-cking pay-per-verse rappers dropping pop songs
lure ’em in with wack trap beats and f-cking drop bombs

[hook: the etherealist]
f-ck the mainstream on the real
f-ck a website that only back who got a deal
f-ck all the half–ss rappers slash pop-stars
underground forever; check who really drops bars
f-ck the mainstream on the real
f-ck a magazine whose ratings don’t reflect sk!ll
f-ck all the half–ss rappers slash pop-stars
underground forever; we gone’ take what’s ours

[verse 2: the etherealist]
to all the phoney promos, magazines and websites
fronting like they love hip-hop and welcome any type
talking they support am’ rappers from the start
don’t expect to get a feature ‘less you blowing up the charts
and don’t expect to get your mixtape on the front page
that’s fifty every day unless you signed to the majors, mate
won’t take a chance on you until you break the f-cking states
but i love boom bap: not in it for the f-cking pape’s
i don’t f-ck with 808s; i f-ck with ’90s tapes
whatever happened to the hot sh-t from that decade? (so who the next to get it?)
you dropping thug sh-t now, they treat you like a leper
intelligent hip-hop got them running for f-cking shelter
wise up: the genre’s dumbing down to mix with pop music
mind-numbing sh-t so the club-rats can bop to it
so they can f-ck to it. where the hip-hop heads?
where the kids who care about the stories from their idols’ pens?

[hook]

[verse 3: genocide]
i’m a heavyweight: high up on the food chain
underground geno keep it gully with no crew name
no ‘lil’, no ‘young’; never no pop sh-t
never sold my soul for some paper in my pocket
we here to make you wake up from your daydream
keep my ear below the street; f-ck the mainstream
you never hear genocide on your airwaves
cause when i rock the mic, i spit to make your head raise
i’m that big balkan you might’a heard about
more than music: my movement is word-of-mouth
i’ve been around for a minute: i’m a veteran
ever since ’98, my sk!ll set been evident
kept it relevant; grown-man raps
only boom bap beats when i preach to you cats
call it a relapse; i’m back with that grade-a
drug rap for your brain; nz to the uk

[hook]

- the etherealist

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