It's You [The Blame Game]

by Anacron

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Anacron gets aggro on this bass- and synth-heavy address to the common rap-career failure. Examining the all-too familiar every-day practices of the average modern day rap star wannabe, he shreds their stereotypical shortcomings with blunt honesty and raw feeling. Despite all the finger pointing and responsibility dodging, Anacron plainly states the reason for most rap artist's lack of success: IT'S YOU.

Originally released on CrayonBeats Magazine's "West" Volume 2 Compilation, released summer of 2011 via


released June 7, 2011

Written and performed by Anacron for Manoemusicc.
Produced by Anacron for Manoemusicc.
All synthesizers and drums programmed and arranged by Anacron.
All live percussion and bass arranged and played by Anacron.
All live horns arranged and played by Anacron.
Recorded, mixed, and engineered by Anacron.



all rights reserved


Anacron Los Angeles, California

Music producer, composer, instrumentalist, DJ, & b-boy. Defining versatile, his music touches all, inspiring awe with amazing performances. Recognized and having collaborated with well-known names in underground hip-hop; Anacron's built a successful yet unassuming history in music. Comfortably celebrating an UNFAMOUS status, he defies fleeting hype, finding success through hard work & pure talent. ... more

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Track Name: It's You [The Blame Game]
I swear these fools got every excuse as to why they're wack these days
These busters talking about that and this, and this and that
Every other reason except pointing the finger at themselves as to why they're wack
Take the blame, punk
Claim that, buster
If you're wack, be wack
It's you

It's you, it ain't nobody else
You ought to play the blame game by yourself
Trying to be a rap giant, you're a rhyme elf
It's you

[Verse 1]
The crowd's hella dead for this to be a live show
but your hype man's steady trying to geek them like, "ho"
You're sure feeling you like you was speaking nice quotes
but I'm peeping like "no" while I'm freaking five hoes
The beat is tight though, so me and my folks
we pretended to kick it like Billy B. and Tai Bo
The lack of feedback got you steaming, like "Yo!
Turn my mic up, son!" Though he's feeling quite blown,
the soundman EQ'ed it clean as White homes
but you're eating mics bro, so the speakers might blow
Still, you want to pin it on the geek in tight clothes
but the engineer's hearing it - He's been right, and knows what he's doing
Pursuing a degree in writing flows
You ain't got the street credits GPA quite low
I watched until the end when your team was like "d'oh!"
Believe me, I'm sure you're hella weak, the line goes

It's you
It ain't nobody else
You oughta play the blame game by yourself
Trying to be a rap giant, you're a rhyme elf
Hot dogs bark, faulty maltese yelp
It's you
It ain't nobody else
You oughta play the blame game by yourself
Uncoordinated worse than pleather plaid belts
It's you

[Verse 2]
The album hit the charts down at fourteenth place
Soundscan numbers found a slowing pace
The label had to frown at this going rate
and word got around you ain't the gold geese laid
Radio leaned weight, video seemed straight,
and all the marketing and press throwed 'zines ate
You got a big push, their promo team's great
but your hot hit missed - Now it's froze cream shakes
When they recouped your record and your short bling phase
you showed up with your finger up in Goldstein's face
The whole thing stinks like an old cheese plate
while you claim conspiracies to make bro's be slaves
Maybe when you wake from your faux dream haze
you'll admit you was dropped off your own steam, 'k
This the pro-leagues babe, you get no team plays
You're broke three ways, quota: No G's made