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?
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

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

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

Lyrics submitted by BleedorBreathe

Eastern Jammin' song meanings
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