In the high-speed chase of the music industry, Andy Mineo and Jon Bellion slam on the brakes and say "no thanks" to the conventional success race. "Rat Race" is their musical mic drop, declaring they're not here to scurry along on the typical treadmill of fame and fortune. With sharp lyrics that slice through industry pretense, they champion authenticity over accolades, suggesting that real winning isn't about topping charts but staying true to one's artistry. They're not just running outside the mainstream rat race; they're flipping it a cheeky goodbye kiss. #AuthenticityOverHype #RealTalk
Rat Race
Lyrics
Tell 'em we don't wanna play, yeah, yeah
We're so okay with last place
We already won the game, yeah, yeah
No, we won't run your rat race
This is so disrespectful
I'm sorry that I didn't do it sooner
They talkin' that manure
Snakes comin' for my head, that's Medusa
But watch how I maneuver
I ain't fly, man, I'm lunar
I got no time for high opinions with them low commitments
I hear that chatter from a distance, I don't ever listen
'Cause art critics just artists that never made it
What I care what you sayin', I'm too busy creatin'
I could tell that ya' some crabs, hatin' on the low
Tryna shoot my dream down, cause you never chase your own
I think I struck a nerve, matter fact I hit a bone
I got a word for them rappers who swear that they on the throne
Oh, so you the king of rap, where your kingdom at?
I got a queen, a fly one, sittin' on my lap
You bought the lie them rappers told ya, I bring it back
That's all I gotta say
Roof your ball, I don't wanna play
Tell 'em we don't wanna play, yeah, yeah
We're so okay with last place
We already won the game, yeah, yeah
No, we won't run your rat race
It's so disrespectful
Hip-hop raised me, I'm talkin' back to my parents
I dropped that Never Land, yo, I still haven't landed
Look mama, you don't gotta drop it low if you raise your standards
Raisin' this banner, mama raised me with manners
Couldn't put me in a box, how I'm raisin' this brand
It's hard to stay focused with standin' in front of cameras
But they don't understand it, they don't see that from my vantage
All glory to the Most High all the praise be
Got them other rappers sweatin' like they need the AC
It ain't all 'bout who you know, Bleek knew Jay-Z
If it you ain't HOT 97, bad idea tryna play me
I know dudes with so much money that it ain't funny
Type of money make you laugh at jokes when it ain't funny
Type of money, go outside lookin' bummy
Still bag a supermodel, they don't care if he ugly
It's politics in this game, but ain't no politicians
And I ain't tryna be another one of fame's victims
Make a name for myself but never make a difference
Now, that's all I gotta say
Roof your ball, I don't wanna play
Yeah, roof your ball, I don't wanna play
Yeah, you ain't ever seein' that again
No, I roof your ball, I don't wanna play
Yeah, no
Kiss it goodbye
Writer(s): Andrew Aaron Mineo, Jonathan David Bellion, Ramon Ibanga
Copyright(s): Lyrics © BMG Rights Management, Universal Music Publishing Group, Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
What is the Meaning of Rat Race
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