About the song
Two chairs, one contract, one line around the block. A thought-rap about who owns the road you release on, and what the door costs to walk through.
Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you.
About these notes
AI-assisted song notes, based on the sources shown here. Not yet human-reviewed.
Words from the artist’s archive
CUT OR CROWD lyrics
Artist-supplied lyric sheet, matched by title. The sheet may differ from this released performance. Production notes and alternate promotional cuts are omitted.
Read the lyric sheet
Intro
Two chairs, one contract, one line around the block. The old boss guards admission; the new kid studies the lock.
Verse 1
YouTube sits where distribution meets discovery. One nod can put a basement on a million screens by Sunday. Search catalogues your name; discovery recalls your route. A stranger finds one song, then finds the rest of you. He built the infrastructure, the signs, the loading bay. If he asks for rent, his bench can point to what he paid.
Chorus
Cut or crowd, which one feeds you? Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you. One owns the road, one hands you the wheel. What kind of freedom pays when nobody feels?
Verse 2
But rent becomes a hand that lives inside the till. The rule can move at noon; while your deal stays still. Your image fills the window; his architecture frames the view. You bring the work, the risk, the years; he owns the avenue. A reach that makes you known can make it hard to leave. The door that brought the crowd can charge them just to see.
Verse 3
Kick pulls a folding table to the other side of town. Keep most of what they give you; build the room from the ground. Your community knows the reason; each contribution meets your hand. No marble in the lobby, just a closer kind of stand. He says a smaller gate should mean a smaller fee. His bench can ask why access paid always gets bloody.
Chorus
Cut or crowd, which one feeds you? Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you. One owns the road, one hands you the wheel. What kind of freedom pays when nobody feels?
Verse 4
But clean math cannot make an empty seat applaud. A generous split of zero leaves the landlord saying Oh my God. The lights stay on through money from a pocket offstage. What happens when that patron wants a return upon the wage? A room can call you owner while the lease is being burned. The cut looks fair today; tomorrow has not signed its terms.
Bridge
The old boss says, I bring the crowd to you. The young one says, I bring my crowd too. One bill is printed on the page. One bill arrives when you get on stage. Both sides bill on public rage. Neither says which door leads offstage.
Verse 5
So the artist brings two ledgers and a phone about to ring. One counts invisible names; one counts each person counting. Is reach a tax, or is the tax the price of being found? Is ownership a crown if you must carry in the crowd? He selects no side; folds the calculation; the corridor starts to hum. Two doors stand open, asking what he wants to owe someone.
Chorus
Cut or crowd, which one feeds you? Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you. One owns the road, one hands you the wheel. What kind of freedom pays when nobody feels?
Inside the recording
Two chairs, one contract, one line around the block. The old boss guards admission; the new kid studies the lock.
Cut or crowd, which one feeds you? Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you.
Cut or crowd, which one feeds you? Packed rooms cost; empty rooms keep you.
Excerpts from artist-supplied lyric files matched by title. Lyric sheets may differ from the released performance.