[Verse 1: Abscaand]
Well, I seem to have contracted a certain type of illness
That envelopes the area around Atlanta residents
I like to call this the Atlanta Rapper Sickness
Most of the people that this develops inside
Can't seem to write a bar to save their lives, which is sad, really
Coming from Outkast and B.O.B. to a bunch of nobodies
Who depend on trap music to gain a following
My pride, I'm told to be swallowing, but I won't
Your flow is horrible, you need to be putting the mic down
I miss a particular kind sound that you can't provide now
Don't get me wrong, strip clubs don't wanna hear about politics and cop k**ings
I'm not getting in my feelings, I'm just reminiscing
On a period in time where you had to spit rhymes to get in this
And you can't really blame those in the industry
Cause people in the streets are insisting that you play these things
Which explains why ___ is in constant rotation
Because ___ dumbed down his flow to make hits
Targeted to a specific demographic that doesn't care about lyrics
Who will hear the garbage that he put out and praise it
The rapper now has a radio hit, he thinks he made it
He gets complacent, the taste of that mainstream money, he craves it
For new rappers looking at this formula to duplicate it
For every Cole and Kendrick, there's a million more that won't make it
[Verse 2: Abscaand]
Speaking of politics, alot of it is in the rap game, astonishing
You're expected to play nice with artists, to prevent burning bridges
But, my moral compa** finds fault in this practice
I hate acting like I like somebody when I really don't
Trust, me it'll show, so pack your bags and hit the door
I will not be doing backflips or bending over backwards
They messed up and let a real one in the business
I hate snakes in the gra** and all of their intentions
One-hit-wonders looking for that next extention
In their careers, so they turn to desperate measures
You might see them on a reality TV show
Reading a script and acting stupid for some cash to blow
Or in a music video with a car that they don't even own
When you're not in the culture for the love, there's no telling
What you might do for the fame, you're fiending for it
Might even switch up your personality and start acting foreign
The world can be so boring when you're a no one
Then, you see these rappers touring while you're having no fun
Monotonous, but there's no stopping this circle of life
Everybody wants to be the Superman of their Metropolis
But, not everybody has the work ethic, and that's what stopping them
[Verse 3: Abscaand]
Some people just can't handle the lack of attention
Just look at child stars and their descent into madness
And that's when a breakdown like Britney is in store
Wearing a paper bag like LaBeouf cause you're not famous anymore
Throwing a temper tantrum, the d** will work in tandem
This seems to be the anthem for people held for ransom
By their own devices because this life is too much to handle
When you lack a stable childhood, you tend to fly off of it
Then, we all watch you plummet into the pit that you created
You become hated, but there's devices to help you ease the pain
When the weight of this life is weighing heavy on your brain
Let's see, there's pills, d** can k**
Rope will choke you with your own chain of thought
Laymen's terms, depression got you
Grab that Glock, fire that shot
Wait, stop!
Your brain will paint the pavement an ill street blue