Higher StandardsAmp It Up

Don't just like your work, you gotta love it, feel it in your sinew, while the rest of them are comfortable just lettin' the sin continue. The B-players are the silent killers, the culture's quiet cancer, They're not the problem, see, they're just the symptom—we're the answer. I see 'em passin' 'round the projects, the 'good enough' is traded, a legacy of compromise 'til everything has faded. So I'm movin' through the hallways with a different kind of vision, to excise the satisfactory with a merciless incision. [Pre-Chorus] The middle ground is vanished, I took it all away... There's only two classifications at the closing of the day... it's either insanely great—or it's total trash! there is no in-between, it all turns into ash! it's either insanely great—or it's a waste of air! the only thing that's worse than hate is a voice that doesn't care! The praise for 'not bad' is the poison that they're sippin' on, that polite nod of approval is the ground they're slippin' on. I ask 'em if they love it and their eyes go blank and hollow, they want me just to swallow what they know their pride can't follow. I channel that old fury, that binary design, no sympathy for anything that doesn't feel divine. You show me somethin' average, I show you where the door is, the standard is the standard, now you know just what the core is. So don't come back until your soul is in the work you made... Until there's absolutely nothing left to be afraid... IT'S EITHER INSANELY GREAT—OR IT'S TOTAL TRASH! THERE IS NO IN-BETWEEN, IT ALL TURNS INTO ASH! IT'S EITHER INSANELY GREAT—OR IT'S A WASTE OF AIR! THE ONLY THING THAT'S WORSE THAN HATE IS A VOICE THAT DOESN'T CARE!