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There's a little boy that's too young to raveOne day he goes through his big bro's tapes"What? I think this is called hip hop"When he puts it on, the shouting and arguing stopsPause, rewind, he'll learn the words offBy heart 'til I start to scribble down and jotWhat's on his mind?Write his own rhymesDo it over, 2 step, drum 'n bass, and grimeHost his own jungle nights and learn hypeFriends, bedroom studios get tightHe likes the limelight, saying what he likesAnd spraying on the micHe's on pirate tonightNow he wrote a songJust 'cause he like Just what's on his mindHe thinks you might likeReckon he should put it online?AlrightNobody will listen but never know they mightDoesn't matter anyway, he don't really careMusic's his blood and his sweat and his tearsLetras de cancionesNah, now you'll never guessBut look how many plays he got today, yes!Top of the blogs, he got them impressedHeat like a hot rush, a blood to the headNah, Mum, look at him nowSee, it's not a waste of time, aren't you proud?There's no money, at least for nowBut he's reaching people and they hear him loudNah, he got fans, don't lieUnread messages, double overnightThanks for the love, yeah, I'm glad you likeKeep in touch, pass it on, how very niceNah, as the DJ's wheelCool little labels offering him dealsCool little raves all hot up on his heelsHe's heating up, he likes how it feelsBut so what now, he sees the game is fiddleThere's hundred other piggies wanna sip from the nippleHear the whippersnappers coming like the click of a pistolAnd now he can't even slack or slow downNo, not even a littleEverybody wanna get a cut of the lootProducers, agents, or even his crewAnd he's still independent, still gotta doAll the promo admin and tax returns, tooRahSo what if I got the underground locked?Desktop is full of emails, he can't put his feet upGot beefFrom his gal and his fam' 'cause they never meet upThis heatMoves like a beast and he gotta keep it upChill out, take a deep breathWhat's the point of chasing achievements?Do it for the love or just leave itIt's not about the money you bleed thisDo it for the kidWho wants to feel strongWith his eyes screwed shutAnd his headphones onDo it for headsAll at the raveSweating awayLike you back in the dayDo it for fansOn and forums and blogsForget competition, ignore what they're onThere's money you're owedAnd some you oweBut never sell out and you'll be a heroBut people are telling him it's not enoughYou gotta cross over, gotta move upHe sees that others are blowing it upWants to make something that everyone loves'Cause He wanna plays concerts, not clubsHe wants a hotel with a hot tubSo-called heads wanna show real loveThen they wouldn't download for free so get stuffedHe wants songs in ads and in pubsHe wants wong from sponsors and chartsHe wanna reach everybodyEveryone wanna piece of him, anywayHe'll make the piece largeYeah, major label he signs"Make me a star,I'm sick of the grindI'll play the part, take the weight off my mindIce up the cake and we'll all have a slice"Yeah, who's crossing over, switchThey only hate because he's getting richWanna get money then target the kidsHalf of it's singles and half of it's shitYeah, I'm playing televisionCashing it in and they flashing the skinThey wanna swing on his platinum tingEh, oh, he's banging telly bitchesYeah, 'nuff fans stopping fans, "Hey!"First time he had a chat with the braySecond one just shook his head and said safeNow he just blanks 'em like "Move out my way!"He started off wanting to make what he lovesThen it becameAll about chasing statusAnd it's a painSo now he just tries to make what they wantWho can sayIf it's right or wrongI guess the game's fucked From Letras Mania