Lyrics

50K Sold



Hook:
Fifty thousand sold on an independent,
Is the same as gold, so we're contenders on our own,
Without the help of any major distribution (2x)

Insight:
In it for the- love, not just to line my pockets,
Punk rock since Sid and Johnny taught me "Never Mind the Bollocks",
Even though you'll find with every line that I'm the hottest
Who copped this disk is who hip-hop is- I just supply the product
To the breakers and poppers and lockers
And graf-writers dodging the coppers, Crate diggers diggin through breaks, Bambatta pictures in their lockers
KRS, Mos Def, Aesop Rock,
Those that Rage Against the Machine, and hate Kid Rock
For the cats that write, every night, in their marble composition
Radio's wack in fact, lately rap's in a horrible position,
A&R's fishing, with a golden rod but it's not sufficient
Offering big visions, to cats without a pot to piss in
But they're fictitious, they're about as real as Santa Claus,
Grab the maps let's plan our course, and be sure to land on all fours
It's all ours, with or without a record deal,
I'm a keep spittin, stay spittin, fuck what you feel

Mad Maxx:
Soon I'm gonna be forced to take it across the border,
Over a large mass of water, far past the normal contracts and order,
In contrast to sober, drunk. But can it be done? Yes
And let it be known, Mad Maxx did it on his own
Leave it alone, we don't need em,
There's no need to hand-feed em, rather stampede em til we can't see them no more, Around these parts I'm the law,
So we got what you want, but we ain't giving it up without a war
Y'all wanna take my, great mind, replace my flow and shape my goals
At the same time into something that ain't mine? Something ain't right
You crooked motherfuckers need to learn to walk a straight line,
Don't cut corners to save time; we climb right up the grapevine
The name seems to slay fiends that daydream of mainstream
Blurred Insight the A-Team invading your radio
Those indy label codes are a fact
Trained pros don't trade blows, but did you know that?

Hook:

Rhyme Minister:
Sittin at my cubicle, rippin at my cuticles,
Flippin words and staring at what's written cause it's beautiful
Thinkin, if I give up my creative control,
That's like letting a pack of wild dogs play with my soul
So I say phuck a major label, cause when we're blowing up the spot it's-
"Get them to sign on the line which is dotted."
Hey, can I get a nice round of implausibility?
Now think back on that night when you first lost your validity,
I know it hurt a lot, but was it worth the props?
You're looking at one cherry that'll never go pop
They act like it's sacrilegious cause I'm not into gats and riches,
Smacking snitches, wack religious images, it's not prestigious
To just do lyricism, but yo the mirror says
I'm doing what I need to do so man why can't you hear this rhythm?
Putting kindling to their swindling, with the truth,
Til they're dwindling into cinders and embers and then "poof"

Hook: