Criticism Abundant Lyrics

Critics looking for flaws

Conclusion in, it's critically flawed

Never constructive, reducing it down, destructive

Criticism abundant

It's lacking poetic realism

There are no emotions, it's not character driven

It doesn't transport or change me

What year is it set in

1841 or 2023

It's the work of a raging narcissist

A closet architect who can't design

Or select the correct bubbles

Fumbling with tools, mumbling about rules

Must have dropped out of school

Misinterpreted the silence

Must have a healthy ego

Must hallucinate a halo

Must be pretty special

Left to wrestle with a collective

And go full detective in front of a mirror

Should have been clearer

No one cheers when the crowd disappears

He revels in obscurity and wholesale purity

Of isolated creativity, breaks, and fixes

Driving madness, methods, and muddy mixes

The last decade tried

To expose big lies

To find him hiding inside

To track down time or anyone on his side

Someone should charge him, she charges

Can't remember when this all started

No one cares about his city

about his youth about the truth

Like a booth people skip as they're passing through

Come up with better stories

Come up for air, you're drowning

Get off camera if you can't stop frowning

You're pounding your town down to pueblos

A village idiot broadcast for web trolls

Just about ready to unload

Another load of codes and clues

Big spook, big tools, bitter fools

Folding and fleeing, carpe noctem or diem

He should get specific

How can we appreciate the vision

If we can't feel the fission

If we can't see the details

If we can't taste the places

Or touch the faces

Or tongue the braces

No one needs your autobiography

Skip the foreword, bored by page three

Another tale of glut or greed

Flowing eternal like a peripheral

Attached to glitchy internals

An internalized glow inside an inferno

Best to take a vow of silence

From weird science and this unholy alliance

With advocates or proponents

Victory goes to the opponents

They've always known it

You can't read the tea leaves

Or stop the breeze

Or save the trees

Or kill the weeds

Or say anything unique

About urban streets or rural simplicity

Or past or present

Or oligarch or peasant, or fox or pheasant

Time to quit trying

Time flies when you're slowly dying

Or slowly living in optimal conditions

No ghetto essence

No social critique

No classic tale of redemption

No arc, no flashbacks, or repeats

No special mention, no collabs, no features

Not a vehicle for profits

Or a launchpad for prophets

To predict a crash from a cockpit

Can we at least get a lesson

Some morals and ethics, atonements and blessings

Instead we get this when no one wanted it

No one bought it or greeted it

No one's moving or slinging it

No one's lip-syncing or singing it

Only one producer

That won't do here

Go back pre-Illmatic

Feels problematic

And the producer is the artist

Can't run a race by yourself with no one to start it

So in conclusion do better

Better yet don't bother

Hang up your gear, put down the mic

Walk away quietly

You were never in this fight

You were never a good fit

Listen to us now

We're the critics

Yeah, critics looking for flaws

Conclusion's in, it's critically flawed