Earlier this week a producer named DVLP announced he was suing Cash Money Records co-founder Baby for not paying him for his beats, including for artists including Lil Wayne. Baby allegedly dismissed the producer with text messages that read: “I’m working with yu fam.”

This story should not be surprising; several Cash Money producers and emcees have complained about being stiffed by the label (including Wayne himself). But it’s depressing nonetheless. It’s bad enough that you’re probably not familiar with DVLP – pronounced “develop” – despite the fact that he’s made songs for big artists like Rick Ross, Cam’ron and Eminem, for whom he did Rap God. But in addition to toiling in obscurity, he’s allegedly not even getting paid for his trouble.

Sure, the producers we’ve all heard of – Timbaland, Young Chop, DJ Mustard – have found plenty of ways to get paid. But your average rap producer, even one with great credits, often has to fight for money, a process that can take practically forever (Fireman was released 10 years ago).

At least DVLP was promised cash. One high-profile producer I talked to, who asked not to be named, said he was told by a Hollywood film producer that a big-budget movie wanted one of his beats. The only problem was that he wasn’t going to be paid. He’d have to be satisfied with “exposure”, and if he wasn’t willing to do it, they’d find someone else who was. (He reluctantly agreed.)

Corner cutting happens in all areas of the entertainment industry, of course, and plenty of music craftsmen and women across genres don’t get paid their worth. But a combination of macho bravado (“In the streets you use your muscle – you don’t pay niggas,” producer Bangladesh told me a few years ago) and technical innovations have made “hip-hop producer” an increasingly undesirable job title.

On the tech side, it’s easier than ever to make an album-ready beat. But said beats are also easier than ever to steal. Numerous young rappers have told me they get their beats off the internet – for free. One method is to go to YouTube and simply type in their preferred sound – say “Migos Type Beat” or “Mike Will Made It Type Beat.” Hundreds of choices pop up, and they will simply swipe what sounds best, making no attempt to contact the beatsmith. (These rappers often forget where the beats even originated.)

With some exceptions, these producers want and expect to get paid – or at the very least get credit. But that will often only happen by taking the rapper or label owner to court, which is expensive. And that’s if they even find out they’ve been stolen from in the first place.

Even when it’s legal, up-and-coming producers often get paltry deals just because they want their foot in their door. While working in New York, producer B-Money landed good placements for artists including 50 Cent and Jay Z, but his meager cheques came late – if they came at all. And so, in 2007, he left for Japan, where he says he makes more money and gets more respect.

Many kids these days believe all they need is a laptop and a dream. And, indeed, new technology has put a world of sound at their fingertips. But it’s also made the barriers of entry lower, and created a lot of competition. For producers, who are often introverted and averse to confrontation, it adds up to a career path that is rife with exploitation.

“When you do a job for somebody, don’t you usually receive payment right away?” B-Money asked me. “You don’t grab a package of toilet paper in a supermarket, put a quarter on the counter, and then say, ‘I’ll give you the rest later.’”