Worth More Dead - K Rino

You want fame don’t you?

But chasing the majors the wrong move

It’s a known rule, sign a contract, they own you

You thinking because you, give’em hits they love you

Inside of the clutches of the machine they plug you

It’s more than the paper with your name on the a dotted line

Anytime that they get you to sign it’s a plot in mind

They try to find naive artist and hand em

Contracts so complex only they understand em

Built to destroy ya, you can’t afford a lawyer

So they offer to manage you and handle your buisness for ya

What was the price?

You thinking you covered for life

But they suckered you for your royalties and publishing rights

They got millions in hand while you living in dream land

Went platinum and only got paid 15 grand

Didn’t understand that they profit whatever you speak

It’s a devilish beast controlling the level you reach

They want your masters

They want your name

Now all you work to build up is gone in flames

They want your publishing and mechanical rights

And when they finish using you they want your life

The day you awaken and learn the business they panic

And blackball you because this industry is satanic

And you can’t even capitalize on your fame

Cuz the paper work explains that they own your name

Your catalog was strong, now it’s gone in smoke

All your blood, sweat and years, every song you wrote

Belongs to a goat worshiper whose thrones a joke

His family eats 20 generations long, you broke

They let you rise nation wide and international fast

Your assets accumulate past your actual cash

The fans love you, so you still selling out shows

You expose that they was the people and tell them 'bout those

So the momentum grows, open eyes no longer closed

A wise artist threatens their power, influence imposed

So now they know that the only road and option to go

Is to eliminate the icon and triple the dough

They want your masters

They want your name

Now all you work to build up is gone in flames

They want your publishing and mechanical rights

And when they finish using you they want your life

This ain’t practice dude, never get your facts confused

Resync your relationship between blacks and jews

Manipulation of artists is a classic move

And a few material objects distracts the fool

Only a devil would scheme and not give me my green

That’s why Michael Jackson called out Jimmy Iovine

His words were too extreme so they had to solve that

Mike was killed then Sony got the catalog back

The record company gets every dime that’s made

And gets paid for every song every time it’s played

It’s a war, why you thinkin it’s only coincidence

It happened to Sam Cooke, Jimi Hendrixs and Prince

Any artist with a free mind who fought for their work

Was strategically plotted on and eventually murked

When you control your art, they attack and assault

Who gunna end up with the music Prince had in his vault?

The music outlives the artist, and the truth is the truth

After they kill’em, then the record sales shoot through the roof

Digital, physical sell’in fast, with foot on the gas

Eternal cash and dead artist, K put’em on blast

They want your masters

They want your name

Now all you work to build up is gone in flames

They want your publishing and mechanical rights

And when they finish using you they want your life