Mr Mainstream Rapper.

I bet you knew who you were.
At some point you were real.
Your heart pumped blood furiously around your body, 
that same heart is now a machine of steel. 


Your mind was once murky with a whirlpool of thoughts,
emotions that you never tried to hide.
& now all I see is that black river of greed
through your dull, drowsy eyes. 


When you were younger, you had an open mind.
The world fascinated you, your soul burned bright.
Your dreams brighter. 
Your head light, your heart lighter.
Your vision clear.


Now you are no longer a person, but an object.
Your music travels far and wide, 
and you simply haven't got the voice to object. 
Your money belongs to one man, and your lyrics to another.
That soul belongs to the devil, 
as you're sprayed from cover to cover
You have no legal rights to anything you've made, 
but you love the attention too much so wont risk a claim,
you'd rather have this so called fame, 
than your own god damn name.


I see you. You've changed.
As you walk onto stage I feel your presence,
and its just not the same.


Tell me sir, when did you forget who you were?
& Mr Mainstream Rapper are you proud of who you've become?
When your own family wont look you in the eye,
and the streets that raised you 
are too ashamed to call you "son".