Call me the hitman, it's kinda hard, it? most feared to become in the game, we became it So I painted a masterpiece of an industry It's not a lip of grass, so it's graphic, it The hitman, say it again, the The hitman, uh, say it again, say, say it
Some people say I'm extreme, broadcast a live through a meme Screaming as Jimmy Iovine, as as Don King Boxed into the ghetto, so be champ with the the arena, the internet is the ring You train audible Queens, to sling music to Def Jam, supreme team, the same thing Except more critical now, digital cocaine The goal to control every individual Like, Cadillacs for in the sixties Now it's rap 'til you sixty, for 360 The trick, switch the degrees with the three Artists are left zero, you know who received the riches Which is the why there's only a few moguls Globally, the pioneers are in a chokehold to make the individual go postal Watching these old folks get fucked for vocals
If you are not performing for radio rotation What's the ratio for radio play at station? If your not paying to play, the record is Puts a whole new on radio head/Radiohead They got a thousand plays a week and we the same units (uh) Put they best rep up, they stand next to it (woo) People wanna relate, wanna connect to it a lyrical check, is this enough for you to flex to it, huh? Or do you more clues? Should I be more black? Will change your view? I die my hair blonde? Should my eyes be blue? (come on) Just a of questions I mustered up for you (uh) But these and half shoes, you can't fill those I made lines/headlines like corduroy pillows And probably get from television and marketing Targeting industry politics, provoking it
The hit (*gunshot*), man, it's kinda Let's release sex tapes, so we can stars Nude photographs of and asses Increase our buzz, impress the (uh) I thought she was to be so passive Now you just another ass in the air with an phone songs, you will never be classic You sold your soul, they that remastering B, why does it have to be so skin peel, makes the song more plastic Follow the program man, stick to the Twelve to eighteen, you know the These kids want popcorn, they want Probably the chorus tisket, tasket But I'm not willing to risk it and it (come on) might take a couple of listens for you to grasp it The hit (*gunshot, drops*)