There's a little boy that's too young to rave   One 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 stops   Pause, rewind, he'll learn the words off   By heart 'til I start to scribble down and jot      What's on his mind?   Write his own rhymes   Do it over, 2 step, drum 'n bass, and grime      Host his own jungle nights and learn hype   Friends, bedroom studios get tight   He likes the limelight, saying what he likes   And spraying on the mic   He's on pirate tonight      Now he wrote a song   Just 'cause he like    Just what's on his mind   He thinks you might like   Reckon he should put it online?   Alright   Nobody will listen but never know they might   Doesn't matter anyway, he don't really care   Music's his blood and his sweat and his tears      Nah, now you'll never guess   But look how many plays he got today, yes!   Top of the blogs, he got them impressed   Heat like a hot rush, a blood to the head      Nah, Mum, look at him now   See, it's not a waste of time, aren't you proud?   There's no money, at least for now   But he's reaching people and they hear him loud      Nah, he got fans, don't lie   Unread messages, double overnight   Thanks for the love, yeah, I'm glad you like   Keep in touch, pass it on, how very nice      Nah, as the DJ's wheel   Cool little labels offering him deals   Cool little raves all hot up on his heels   He's heating up, he likes how it feels      But so what now, he sees the game is fiddle   There's hundred other piggies wanna sip from the nipple   Hear the whippersnappers coming like the click of a pistol   And now he can't even slack or slow down   No, not even a little   Everybody wanna get a cut of the loot   Producers, agents, or even his crew   And he's still independent, still gotta do   All the promo admin and tax returns, too      Rah   So what if I got the underground locked?   Desktop is full of emails, he can't put his feet up   Got beef   From his gal and his fam' 'cause they never meet up   This heat      Moves like a beast and he gotta keep it up      Chill out, take a deep breath   What's the point of chasing achievements?   Do it for the love or just leave it   It's not about the money you bleed this      Do it for the kid   Who wants to feel strong   With his eyes screwed shut   And his headphones on      Do it for heads   All at the rave   Sweating away   Like you back in the day      Do it for fans   On and forums and blogs   Forget competition, ignore what they're on      There's money you're owed   And some you owe   But never sell out and you'll be a hero      But people are telling him it's not enough   You gotta cross over, gotta move up      He sees that others are blowing it up   Wants to make something that everyone loves      'Cause    He wanna plays concerts, not clubs   He wants a hotel with a hot tub   So-called heads wanna show real love   Then they wouldn't download for free so get stuffed      He wants songs in ads and in pubs   He wants wong from sponsors and charts      He wanna reach everybody   Everyone wanna piece of him, anyway   He'll make the piece large      Yeah, major label he signs   "Make me a star,   I'm sick of the grind   I'll play the part, take the weight off my mind   Ice up the cake and we'll all have a slice"      Yeah, who's crossing over, switch   They only hate because he's getting rich   Wanna get money then target the kids   Half of it's singles and half of it's shit      Yeah, I'm playing television   Cashing it in and they flashing the skin   They wanna swing on his platinum ting   Eh, oh, he's banging telly bitches      Yeah, 'nuff fans stopping fans, "Hey!"   First time he had a chat with the bray   Second one just shook his head and said safe   Now he just blanks 'em like "Move out my way!"      He started off wanting to make what he loves   Then it became   All about chasing status   And it's a pain   So now he just tries to make what they want   Who can say   If it's right or wrong   I guess the game's fucked