Rap song that's against AI slop

Yeah, they call it “progress”…
But it ain’t evolution when the soul’s gone.
You can keep that synthetic noise.
This one's for the blood, the sweat, the humans.

Look, I ain't anti-tech, I ain't anti-future,
But that slop you peddlin’? Man, that ain't culture.
No heartbeat, no pain, no truth in the file,
Just a soulless algorithm tryna mimic our style.

I see a beat with no scars, a verse with no flaws,
Just mashups of data from behind closed doors.
Ain’t no hunger in them hooks, no struggle in them drops,
That's factory-made fast food — I call it AI slop.

They sampling legends, but never pay homage,
Stealin’ from the past, wearin’ ghost-face bondage.
No dues paid, no nights starvin’ on couches,
Just servers and suits in silicon houses.

AI slop — we don’t cop,
Let the real ones rise, let the clones all flop.
Keep your code in the lab, this is soul on top,
From the heart to the mic — yeah, we never gon’ stop.
(AI slop? Nah. AI slop? Nah.)
Keep it human, keep it raw, keep it hotter than law.
(AI slop? Nah. AI slop? Nah.)
No respect for the paint-by-numbers draw.

I ain’t sayin’ it’s racist — but yo, let’s talk,
If you erase cultures for code, that’s a theft walk.
We built this art with our trauma and tears,
Not with prompts fed cold into neural frontiers.

It’s bias in reverse, we rejecting the lie,
Not all creation deserves a piece of the pie.
What you know 'bout cyphers in alleyways dark,
Or spittin’ truth 'til it pierces like a spark?

You ain’t got ancestors singin’ through your pen,
You just got patterns and a server room den.
Don’t call it prejudice, call it defense,
I’m protectin’ the sacred from your nonsense offense.

AI slop — we don’t cop,
Let the real ones rise, let the clones all flop.
Keep your code in the lab, this is soul on top,
From the heart to the mic — yeah, we never gon’ stop.
(AI slop? Nah. AI slop? Nah.)
Keep it human, keep it raw, keep it hotter than law.
(AI slop? Nah. AI slop? Nah.)
No respect for the paint-by-numbers draw.

This ain't gatekeeping…
It's gate guarding.
Every culture got vultures — and now they silicon.
But we see you.

Give me rhythm with a pulse, give me bars with a stain,
Give me jazz in the veins, give me joy, give me pain.
AI slop ain’t food, it’s aesthetic decay,
A mirage with no meaning, just a game they play.

So yeah, call me biased, I’m proud to resist,
I’m loyal to the spirit that no bot can twist.
This ain’t hate, it’s love for what’s real and what’s fought,
You can’t synthesize soul, and that can’t be bought.

Keep your slop in the data stream.
We’re cooking something real over here.
Human. Flawed. Alive.
Deal with it.