Correction Paroles Grammy Weeknd par Lucidious

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(Yeah)

All these people creeping out the woods are leeches (leeches)
Soon they see the numbers, I can feel them reaching (reaching)
I'm feeling like the Grammy's cutting out The Weeknd (Weeknd)
I don't let you in my circle, I'm not here to pretend (pretend)
(Yeah, stop it)

Get the f**k out of my pockets
I get ticked off whenever I drop this
In the public, dealing with the nonsense
Bullsh*t, that's been filling up my comments
If you had a clue what wе had to do just to make it through this
Then you would take a stеp back before you go typing all that sh*t
So, what's it like to be an artist?
Idolize if we make it
But got frowned upon when we started
Some say we're c*cky (maybe)
Some think we're too modest
Most draining your body, but
Some care what your heart is
Most start breaking words they promised
They locks us out of the playlist
Because we don't fit in your agenda
Pain is now a fraction of the penny
Tell me how the f**k you expect us to make a living off of music
All of you abusing all of the algorithms, we don't really find it amusing
I ain't cutting out the weakest, someone can feel the confusion
(You must think all of us are stupid)

All these people creeping out the woods are leeches
Soon they see the numbers, I can feel them reaching
I'm feeling like the Grammy's cutting out The Weeknd
I don't let you in my circle, I'm not here to pretend
(So)

Lemme get this straight
Why would I go on sign my name on a doc*ment making me hydroplane down a path I hate?
Still, I complain, I want fame
But not at the cost of giving up all the freedom that I've attained
I contain myself and
I refrain saying f**k these games, I don't like to play
I've chilled out, I've been acting peaceful
I still came here to battle evil
And I speak out from an angry crowd
And I won't stop 'til the day they treat artists equal
You crush their dreams
And 99% gave up on what they loved
They paid their rent
You played us long enough with no respect
I came to kill the Grammy's and repent

Yeah
They digging in our pockets
So now we're screaming "f**k the Grammy's"
We just living in a spotlight
They don't seem to understand me
Taking profit off the top
So now we're screaming "f**k the Grammy's"
Time to pay us what we're due
Before the industry is buried (buried)

All this people creeping out always in tha way
Soon as they see us they seem not to understand
Feelin like under service mother f**kers
I don't let you in my circle, I'm not here to pretend (pretend)

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