Private islands and diamonds, & fine dining & wining/They're always whining about how they need nine more coats wit fur lining/**** all the platinum & chains, they're just lacking in brains/Hijackin some planes is more thug than smacking up dames/'cuz at least these extremists carry somewhat of a meaning/They're not just speaking on CDs telling young Gs to be greedy/On some beach in Tahiti, talking about streets & grafitti/When the only set you rep is the one back at MTV/See rap went from black kids trying to grasp for advancement/To some hacks with no talent talking about dancing & fashion/Or some snazzy exapansions on some fancy **** mansions/**** this blasphemous dance ****, I'm bringing passionate stances/& immaculate stanzas instead of hyping up night clubs/I'm just a high & drunk white punk trying to incite a real Fight Club/& **** you to producers who use music as a tool for/Selling dumb youth the same drum loop and keeping kids in their stupor/

Hip-Hop of today, what a disgrace/The meaning & the message musta been misplaced/Or there might not've even been one to begin with/The image was the message from the start/You've been trick SWITCH/Yer train of thought,heh,from trying to fit in/To not being controlled by a couple of rich men/The music industry is all about platinum/And all I gotta say is WHAT THE **** HAPPENED?/

Spinners & dinners & crucifixes that glitter/And remixes to get yer fans to buy the same fucking record/& oh yeah, yer a blood right? Dumpin slugs in gun fights?/Living in a slum? TIGHT! Reprezent that THUG LIFE!/But **** that yer living in a gated community/It's confusing me how you pulled off this scam so beautifully/I mean who would think one single's about uzis & shooting sprees/While the next hit would jump right to shoes & jewelry/I coulda gone the same route, played the game how/Funny would it have been if when I came out/My first single was all about blowing ya brains out/And the next hit would cover spilling wine and getting the stains out/Come on, aren't we more intelligent than that? NO/Ok yer right thats irrelevant the fact is/That all these wack kids talking about how they stack chips/Got the muthafucking representative of CRACK pissed!/

Most records are written & spoken in broken ebonics/The hottest of products stay to the topics of tonic & chronic/They oughta be droppin phonics & sonnets instead of praising narcotics/& celebrating degrating erotic encounters/Useless duelists dilute the proof of the movement/& influence students to become fully fluent in foolish/Get loose & attack this facist control of the last bastion/Take action to these bastards to reclaim the lost passion/So grab the pitch forks & torches & force these **** whores/To spit more than a sordid assortment of corporate endorsements/& if you record 'em they'll consort with ya foreskin/Drop a Porsche in, you can ride 'em like a horde of Norse horsemen/So to summarize, the sun will rise each day to see the sum of wise/Writers grow & go above the glow of prize fighters whoa/The meaning of this message is in essence just a question/But the lesson lies in what you do with it so keep on asking.../WHAT THE **** HAPPENED?