The Monologue Songtext
von eMC

Hate everything about you, your life don′t apply to me
Your family, religion, your birth to society
Don't be surprised if I attack you violently
And it′s on a variety of videos virally
Never pass words like passwords, require me
Turn your rap league entirely to retirees
If you reply to me it should be a hundred grand
Through Western Union or MoneyGram that you wire me

Hated me quietly, invaded your privacy
Like reading out loud every sentence in your diary
Ravioli spinach out in Venice eating privately
Play tennis then I'm watching Menace II Society
From my image it'll take a minute to admire me
Snapbacks to the shoelaces that I tie on me
Despite despising me, the irony of even when you diss me
You still need words when describing me


Backstage, more shows
Green room, wardrobe
Sound check, no band
Packed house, more fans
Bright lights, no time
Countdown, showtime
One more for the catalog
Hey, this be the monologue

Listen you pathetic man

And niggas think you real
But you fake just like a prosthetic hand
Man, said you was gon′ drop
Said you was gon′ pop just like a synthetic strand
Damn, still waiting on your debut
Ran through that little money that they gave you
Uh, now you sitting home thumb tapping
Ask Madden, he know you done rapping
Oh, so that's why you bitter for
′Cause you can't get a show, can′t get a tour

Now you lie in a rage
And you try to engage in a Facebook Twitter war

Guess you ain't get the memo
Washed up weed heads shouldn′t make demos
Get a job, get another job, get fired
Your career's like your passport, expired


Backstage, more shows
Green room, wardrobe
Sound check, no band
Packed house, more fans
Bright lights, no time
Countdown, showtime
One more for the catalog
Hey, this be the monologue

Yo, back in the day, was on the phone with Ace
He said Strick, you a star, you belong in space
From that point I been on the case
Now I'm hot, that′s why I walked in the spot
Just like I own the place
Known to rip e′ry microphone you hand me

I'm overconfident and cocky ′cause I can be

I got a lot of fans I gotta please
From Wisconsin, so I drink a lot of beer and got a lot of cheese
And tell Puff I'm a Bad Boy but I′ll never sign
He'll probably do me like Black Rob and I′ll never shine
Get it? Black Rob, Shyne, fuck it, never mind
That's what I get for trying to hit you with a clever line
'Cause most niggas want it dumbed down
And when they finally get the shit
That I spit they be looking dumbfound
Shook and scared when I come around

I don′t battle, if I did, dudes would be dead after one round

Backstage, more shows
Green room, wardrobe
Sound check, no band
Packed house, more fans
Bright lights, no time
Countdown, showtime
One more for the catalog
Hey, this be the monologue