Maestro Fresh‐Wes Makin’ Records Lyrics

“Naaah, Dis Kid Can’t Be From Canada?!!” Track Listing
CD 1
  • 1 I’m Drinkin’ Milk Now
  • 2 Check My Vernacular
  • 3 Pray to da East
  • 4 Certs Wid Out da Retsyn
  • 5 Mic Mechanism
  • 6 Makin’ Records
  • 7 Fine Tune da Mic
  • 8 Brown Sugar
  • 9 How Many Styles
  • 10 “Dat’s My Nigga!!”
  • 11 Higher Level
  • 12 Bring It On (remix)
  • 13 Make It for the Ruff
  • 14 “Dat’s My Nigga!!” (instrumental)

  • INTRO [Maestro Fresh Wes - talking]
    Yeah, yeah yeah. I got my man in the studio, Mac. What's going on money?
    [Mac] Yo what's up? Chill
    [Maestro] Word. I remember back in the days, you know. I be thinking, you
    go in the studio, you drop a record, you know what I"m saying. That's all
    I'm saying. You get your porps an dloot the whole nine. Word (word). I
    think brothers gotta wake up and smell the coffee you know what I'm saying.
    [Mac] Brothers gotta wake up man
    [Maestro] Word, word man

    CHORUS X4
    [Studio People] You gotta wake up, you gotta gotta wake up
    [Maestro] Check it, it's all about makin' records

    [Maestro]
    Everyday I wake up, I thank God
    'Cause I never had to kill, never had to rob
    Always had a job
    The industry's hard, full of frauds
    But I never pulled a card on the boulevard
    I just work hard
    Ask a vet about disaster, you hafta
    Be able to get a label to blast your procraster-
    Nating the laughter, has to wait
    After you pass the snake, stay awake Hobbes
    That's the breaks
    You wanna make a record, check it
    You need more than your boys around your way giving you credit
    'Cause you can have a spectacular, vernacular
    But take your contract to a lawyer to look after ya
    'Cause labels have mastered the
    Skill of gassing ya, after ya, dropped the flip like a spatula
    Snatch your Acura
    And all the bitches you wanted
    Are flaunted your riches are laugh at ya
    Cut you off like a dagger, support you like a laddere
    Your pockets ain't fatter, you be sadder
    So you better have a better strate-gy
    Can't you see
    It ain't healthy, nobody could tell me it's hell see
    Takes more than a dope LP to be wealthy
    Let me show you the path, you're going too fast
    You're choking your promotional staff, ain't no knowing the half
    They look and they laugh, and take time off
    Cut ya off, no loss you're just a write off
    Now you're feeling neglected and rejected
    Check it, it's all about makin' records

    CHORUS X2

    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    You want to see pandemonia rip
    Well you're melodious shit
    You shackle and tackle by chicks, packing like Appleonia(?) six
    Having the hoes on your jock
    A smooth individual, your videos on Yo! and the Box
    Collecting your props, you think you're getting your nots
    Forgetting black man attacks man's upsetting and sweating ya pops
    Ringing the bell, ringing 'em hell
    I'm telling them facts, black be clever you better rebel
    You're outta here like flash dance
    You and your wack stance
    Regroup from your advance, fat chance!
    You're say that you're only playing with your soul
    You're innovative, but they got creative control
    You're a puppet on a string, ain't got a fucking thing
    You can sing so they cling, 'cause they know thay going to bring
    Money with your rhyme but you're def dumb and blind
    Don't waste time nigger, sign that dotted line

    CHORUS X4

    [Maestro Fresh Wes]
    Now in the studio, you got the stupid flow
    It doesn't matter tho, it's who you know
    You think you got it bad, girls got it the harder way
    Labels love to see a black woman in lingerie
    What's a broad to say when a label say we'll make you millions
    Buy clothes for your children, you know she hit the ceiling
    They sing for me, we'll bring you G's
    But injuries in the industry, could come instantly
    I see the way they make a G a day, but what a fee to pay
    Throwing and showing your T and A
    You're taking a blow, your ass you shake it to show
    Is raking the dough, but they played you and make you a ho
    You're a piece of meat, between the sheets
    'Nuff brothers seek to reach you, to freak or so to speak
    Your Moms can't believe this, her daughter showing cleavage
    She's speachless, and says oh help me sweet Jesus
    Exposing the punanny, just to win a Grammy
    But when that ass is flabby, you gone, word to daddy
    Stop the degradation you're facing
    This information I'm raising to the Queens of my nation
    The shit can't prolong, goes strong
    And when you sing a slow song (baby keep your clothes on)
    Times are hard, many hearts are broken
    Some start to smoke, Farrakhan ain't joking
    When he said we're being setup
    So black men and women keep your head up
    When you're makin' records

    CHORUS X4

    OUTRO - Farrakhan sample
    "The greatest musicians, the greatest rap stars. The greatest black
    artists, are sitting here today. But I want you to know, you're being
    setup. By the smarter that is coming down."

    Artists A to Z: