Plastic World - Kool Keith

"Yeah  Kool Keith should keep it real 
He should rap about space and Mars..." 

[Kool Keith] 
Yo  I'm tired of looking at everybody. Same boots  skully hats in 
90 degree weather  looking to get into clubs for free. I'm not 
smoking blunts  or looking for jazz records at the Roosevelt. 

I left New York  the city itself was stress depression 
High boots and urban beats  that wasn't my direction 
Producers filtering join in with R&B 
A million rappers, some clones trying to sound like me 
Biting my space styles, biting my horror-core 
All I saw was Kool Keiths on my thaw 
Record companies had G'd-off all my royalties 
Watching vinyl spin, local groups' wack MC's 
Some try to rap with that perpetrate mobster crap 
Karl Kani jeans, fat stomachs in the limosines 
Mixtapes by wack DJ's adds doo doo play 
I'm on the turnpike, the city drifting down the highway 
Like a mirage, the style there is all illusion 
On videos out of town, peoples buy confusion 
Rolling high with cash pulled over down my eye 
Since I've been out, y'all can't see 

Chorus: 
Is the world made of plastic? 
Is the city buried in dreams? (Yeah) 
Is the world made of plastic? 
Cause that's the way is seems (Owww) 

Watching TV so bored, while imbiciles hold the mic cord 
Graffiti playgrounds are played out, yo how'd that sound? 
Army fatigues are weak, is for the minor leagues 
No rapping cyphers or brothers in the rented Benz 
Crews on stage, acting hard with a thousand friends 
I saw the place turn plastic, crackers looping beats 
People with no deals, walkmen rappin on the streets 
I turned my back, 90% of the city sounded wack 
Payola scams switched DJ's like