Hunter (V2) - Tonedeff

Well, well

Well if it isn’t this motherfucker again!

Are you serious?

You figured that nigga had disappeared and shit, but here he is

Wielding the power of perspective you only get when investing years in this

'Cause nothing’s more expensive than experience

And I’m spent, delirious, ballin' outta my mind

And I’ve lost it, I’m buying all of ya off, fall into line

Every fraud has a price, and it’s bottom dollar bargaining time

You can’t offer me bribes 'cause all that you’ve got is already mine

But that’s awfully kind — thanks!

Now shut your fucking mouth

Y’all been fucking round

In my fucking house

I’m hearing the same voice coming out of a hundred mouths

A hundred thou, if we count the underground

And there’s nothing I frown upon harder than air quote «artists»

Borrowing their whole product

From whoever’s popular and then ain’t so modest

Like they so hot because they so blogged

Like it wasn’t their marketing dollars that paid for all it

No, wait, don’t call it!

Don’t hate, Tone!

Play the game, don’t knock it

But that is a lot like forcing me to swallow your snot, then being like

«Hey!

don’t vomit!»

Y’all way too soft on these a-holes, dog

I’m saying this shit from a place so honest, there ain’t no wrong in it

Fuck everything!

When I wrote Politics I was a kid acknowledging all of the shit

Now I’m an adult and I feel like a prophet

Like how many shots did I call?

Shall I call an accountant?

Since hip-hop, the counterculture, became the culture of counting

Yet, accountability’s dead, we just out for them checks

So proud that we gotta sell out for respect

And the barely hidden insincerity is so foul, you live with the threat

That high-fives are always followed with a request

Somebody said that success is the best revenge and it’s a point so valid

That niggas is all network, no talent

It’s an imbalance, so telling it like it is just might destroy your access

To this circus of trend-whores with coke habits

Well, I’ve had it!

I’m earnest to the platelets in my bones

And anyone afraid to burn a bridge is too lazy to build their own

I’m obsessive-compulsive, reps are what I know

A perfectionist with a restraining order, can’t leave well-enough alone

So, I tend to expose the devil that’s close

But that never bodes well for their soul-selling M. O

Like when a distributor fell in a hole and said they were broke

But they kept what they sold so I never saw a cent of my dough

Here’s another lesson to quote:

Becoming friends with the press is a no

'Cause they grow resentful, it’s best the less that they know

Them motherfuckers pretend that they’re so essential, the probe isn’t farfetched

They’re just star-fuckers with pencils in tow

But yo, the most disrespectful joke especially low

I bled for this, bro

Even went to the post to send you this dope

Indie is trendy so majors will cloak their artists as independents and pose

That’s like repping organic Pepsi and Coke

You didn’t do it yourself!

You ain’t authentic, you never knew what I felt

The disabling stress that ruined my health

You’re claiming credit like you ain’t abetted by ludicrous wealth

And then aided by numerous helpers

You may fool 'em well, 'cause who’s gonna tell?

Me, shitbag!

Did you get a billion views from an elf?

(Oh it’s magic!)

Clear Channel don’t have no room on its shelves for a book of spells

You know that shit’s bad when a kid’s hat

Is a big splash and we skip past

If he spits raps, but his hip dance

Is a hit smash within six flat

It’s a bitch slap in the face!

When you’ve mastered a trade

And every brick you’ve paved for their way is smashed in a day

And so rappers become actors, and then actors become rappers

This ain’t fantasy fulfillment, this shit is facts for the stage

It went from sucka MCs to wack niggas to herbs

To faggots, to lames, backpackers, netcees to nerds

To hipsters to blog rappers to frat, struggle to drill

But none of those names come if you’re ill

I am the hunter that went for the jugular

Spilling the blood of other hunters

And still I summoned the hunger to kill

But you bring out the worst in me

'Cause them pickings ain’t nourishing

And it eats me alive

It hurts when my stomach is filled

The new run of the mill: chasing fame

In this day and age, when brutality’s raging

Like fashion and throwing cash in our faces is gonna change it

It’s vapid, it’s aimless, I can’t quit, I have to just say this

'Cause I’m a fucking man — and that’s dedication

End of statement