The Music Of Business

Yeah, that's what I'm talking about
The homie John John up in this motherfucker
Mr. X to the Z, with a public service announcement
For all you faggot ass rappers (What's that?)
They think just because a nigga's rapping with a label behind him, it's all great
It's modern day pimps and hoes going on in this shit
Look...

Ask EPMD, rap is still out of control, 'cause hip-hop plus Glocks
Equals Scott La Rock, 2Pac, and Biggie Smalls
I figure y'all niggas brawl for lack of protocol
Now I'm gonna take matters into my own hands, like masturbation
Another 39 suicidal rappers at Heaven's Gate
Waiting to battle with Satan
Rassassination: taking heads like a decapitation (ching!)
Trapped in infatuation (really)? Back up off me
Kiss my ass, then wake up and smell the coffee
See, when you're broke and unknown, your baby mama clown you
Her family down you, don't want your own kid around you
"You ain't shit, don't do shit, ain't gone never be shit"
So its quits-two videos later, she's on your dick (Bitch)
When your albums selling, she "Don't Worry, Be Happy."
Bragging to her friends: "That's just my baby daddy!"
And sadly, niggas start acting like they shit don't stink
But wait: you getting cut like the wedding cake
The music business is straight Mafioso:
Jewish, Italiano, and Black
My BMI/ASCAP platinum plaque rap trap
Bootleg my shit to Japan and swap meets sell my same shit back
Loan sharks break legs, we break beats state to state
A record deal? That's just a loan with a fucked up interest rate

("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("I don't know why baby! ")
But, uh, handle your business
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")

Sort of like the label is the devil
R&B, Pop, Gospel to Heavy Metal
They make dough pimped in the ghetto
Label mate: different rat in the same rat race
The production company is the nigga that you learn to hate
Management is your crimey, your lawyer is your liar
And when you're famous but poor, you set your accountant's office on fire
It's like this: they loan you a dollar
For you just to break even, they stack ten
When you finally make one dollar, their profit is Andrew Jackson ($20)
You skinny, they got plenty
The Benjamins? Before you see any
They getting G's, big cheese
No Vaseline fucking dope M.C.'s, so "freeze"
Call the police chief, it takes a thief
Here's everything you better know about the record industry
Like Kashif
'Cause labels is doing $300, 000 deals
Blowing coke smoke up my ass, but we both know crack kills
Not very many, rappers ever see a penny
But double platinum is two million units, CD's cost $20
(Too true) So here's a clue:
Somebody just made 40 million dollars, and it sho' wasn't you, nigga

("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("I don't know why baby! ")
But, uh, handle your business
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
Handle your business

Wanna know the relation between hip-hop and drugs?
'Cause professional athletes, black actors, rappers, and thugs
All sleep in the same bed together
Rich niggas only kick it with other black people with cheddar
Same lifestyle: legal or illegal
It be us, swinging a three fuck getting skeed up at Peanuts
Which leads up to this: a high turnover ration
Groupies turn tricks and be quick to give fellatio
MC's get the pussy and fame
Record execs floss with a corporate card
And charge it to the rapper's name
But the label owners make all the real money
Just ask David Geffen, Berry Gordy, Russell, or Puffy
(Ching, ching!)
In business, you don't get what you deserve
You get what you negotiate
And everything is renegotiable, based on the sales you generate
But hip-hop fans don't buy albums, and then again, tend to player hate
The rapper that went Pop, but before this, I never knew
Skills don't pay the motherfucking bills, money do
Is you stupid? How nice I represent don't pay rent
The R&B hoe that jock Theo on the radio buy your CD tho
Rap magazines be screaming they keep it real
But keep the fake on the cover
For the tennis shoe and clothing advertisements-no wonder
Like Common "I Used to Love H.E.R."
Now I just fuck H.E.R. with two rubbers

("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("I don't know why baby! ")
But, uh, handle your business
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")

(Rasassination-check it out)
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
(Handle your business)
("Music please... music please")
("I don't know why baby! ")
(But, uh, handle your business)
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
(Yeah, I suggest, handle your own business)
("Music please... music please")
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
(Rough riders, lubricated, fiber ribbed)
("Music please... music please")
(Thankfully, we've been blessed to use the Magnums
Extra large-yeah, Mr. X-to-the-Z, Ras H2O)
("I don't know why baby! ")
(Can't stop, won't stop, never stop; handle your business)
("Why you treat me so bad? ")
(Handle your business)