Текст песни Neoclassical Massacre - Chilly Gonzales

Sorry, not sorry, if I sound rude
But I was the first underground dude
To make a piano record with a pop attitude
Now I got so many children it's a family feud

And that was way back in 2004
Solo Piano was the album that opened the door
Today they call it neoclassical but don't confuse it
It's a stretch to even call that shit yoga music

A song without a melody is atmosphere
It's okay but it can't catch your ear
When there's no tension, then there's no passion
It won't hold my attention I guess I'm old-fashioned

I hate it when my ears are not surprised
That's when you know the composition's compromised
The piano has been monetized
All those fingers trying to hit the sweet spot
They've been spotified

Catalog with the Grammy nod
Piano God I'm not mad at all
I got entire albums at a hundred million streams
Which means I keep 'em listening

And you
A slave to the playlist
Face it, you're faceless
Your label's a rapist
Your music leaves no traces
Nobody loves it... or hates it
And your status is so swagless
The saddest part is that your art creates no addicts

You're in a musical prison (ha ha)
Nobody's choosing to listen (ha ha)
There's a new algorithm
It's pitching your pieces
To someone in their kitchen
Trying to finish their thesis (oh no)

They say they love you but they lie
Your stats will stay high the more you sound like A.I
Your wafer-thin songs are vapor
You are not a painter
You are wallpaper
And do not @ me
'Cause I am not peaceful
Your math doesn't add up
'Cause we are not equals
In your Philip Glass mask, amateur
Welcome to my Neoclassical massacre

Peaceful piano
Pitiful arpeggios
Unoriginal stereotypical
Sounds like you're typing three chords on a digital keyboard
I call you mini-me
You call it minimal

And your performance is conformist
I cringe at all those pictures of your piano in the forest
You say you take your inspiration from nature
But there's nothing faker than seeing you play on a glacier
You told your camera crew to make it look organic
Oh your piano suddenly appeared as if by magic?
You posted a sunset but the sky is cloudy
You're not Einaudi
You are Zwei-naudi

And if you wonder who I'm talking to
Well it's probably you because it's all you
And if you're offended, call my manager
The numbers 1-800-Neoclassical Massacre