Life...life...dreams...
[Verse 1]
Rhyme kicker, Mister Mister Sick Line Spitter
Uploadin' all his videos with QuickTime, to get a
Quick shine, courtesy of YouTube buzz
His n***** tell him "no one rap like you do, cuz"
Now who knew cuz was so savvy?
Mama told him that he get it from his daddy
Homie hit her for her Caddy
Every Friday night, so he can cruise around the boulevard
Full of hard n***** pullin' card
And sell his little demo tape he recorded upstate
With his boy Nate's pirated copy of Cubase, but he's
Sick of livin' in the same place
Seein' the same faces runnin' in the same race
Seein' the same hundred-and-twelve fans on MySpace
Just 'cause he nice doesn't guarantee plays
But hip-hop is what he needs, what he breathes
Made him go and throw some D's on the segway
He never dreamed of Jeannie but he dreamed of Jean Grae
His baby mama wanna see him succeed, she give him leeway
Now even she say he save heat for Open Mic Night
Might motivate him if his chain was soaked in ice, right
And the dream don't stop
Homie gets love in the street, but his seed can't eat those props
Meanwhile he's starvin' for the jewels and wealth
He want the fortune and the fame but kid is foolin' himself
He could've been the next Nas, been the next Ra
But he didn't have connections so he couldn't get far
Homie is 37 and he stil dwells
On the same dreams that he had when he was 12, he's in Wanderland
[Verse 2]
Bamboo bangels
Honey loved to waltz and to tango
And they say she got the voice of an angel
Pixie hoops and rings
Shorty was a bedroom superstar, tryin' to live her Whitney Houston dreams
Graduated 18, full-ride scholarship
But she got a gift
First semester, dropped out
Didn't tell her mother, moved to California
Never had anybody that was in her corner
Never had a plan, she began life as a stripper
Mr. Plaid Pants always was a big tipper
Convinced her he was into music, told her that he owned a label
And was able to stop her from dancin' on tables
Now homegirl was reluctant
The bright type, but them bright lights had blinded her better judgment
'Cause dude drove a Saturn, and after a while she saw a pattern
Every time he'd get her a gig, he'd be hittin' the skins
Seven years, three kids and a month later
She's still waitin' on her break yo, dude bounced ages ago
And that's the way it go...her dreams never faded away
She still believe she'll get discovered someday
But until then, she is back on the pole
Back in the hole-in-the-wall, strippin' again
Honey dip still young, only 25
And she has NO clue what she's gonna do with her life
She's in Wanderland
[Bridge]
One for the money
Two for the show
Three to get the... (three to get the...)
H-h-h-h-here we go
[Verse 3]
I seen n***** in the hood
Trade a noose for a loose-leaf
And spit flows that they boosted from Boosie
And tip hoes at the Blue Streak
Gentleman's Club, with their cash
Delusional as hell, goin' nowhere fast
And I fear I'm headed down the same path sometimes
Worried if my dreams of hittin' big are asinine
I pray to God I'm never past MY prime
Wonderin' if I should scrap these rhymes, or live in Wanderland
[Verse 1]
Rhyme kicker, Mister Mister Sick Line Spitter
Uploadin' all his videos with QuickTime, to get a
Quick shine, courtesy of YouTube buzz
His n***** tell him "no one rap like you do, cuz"
Now who knew cuz was so savvy?
Mama told him that he get it from his daddy
Homie hit her for her Caddy
Every Friday night, so he can cruise around the boulevard
Full of hard n***** pullin' card
And sell his little demo tape he recorded upstate
With his boy Nate's pirated copy of Cubase, but he's
Sick of livin' in the same place
Seein' the same faces runnin' in the same race
Seein' the same hundred-and-twelve fans on MySpace
Just 'cause he nice doesn't guarantee plays
But hip-hop is what he needs, what he breathes
Made him go and throw some D's on the segway
He never dreamed of Jeannie but he dreamed of Jean Grae
His baby mama wanna see him succeed, she give him leeway
Now even she say he save heat for Open Mic Night
Might motivate him if his chain was soaked in ice, right
And the dream don't stop
Homie gets love in the street, but his seed can't eat those props
Meanwhile he's starvin' for the jewels and wealth
He want the fortune and the fame but kid is foolin' himself
He could've been the next Nas, been the next Ra
But he didn't have connections so he couldn't get far
Homie is 37 and he stil dwells
On the same dreams that he had when he was 12, he's in Wanderland
[Verse 2]
Bamboo bangels
Honey loved to waltz and to tango
And they say she got the voice of an angel
Pixie hoops and rings
Shorty was a bedroom superstar, tryin' to live her Whitney Houston dreams
Graduated 18, full-ride scholarship
But she got a gift
First semester, dropped out
Didn't tell her mother, moved to California
Never had anybody that was in her corner
Never had a plan, she began life as a stripper
Mr. Plaid Pants always was a big tipper
Convinced her he was into music, told her that he owned a label
And was able to stop her from dancin' on tables
Now homegirl was reluctant
The bright type, but them bright lights had blinded her better judgment
'Cause dude drove a Saturn, and after a while she saw a pattern
Every time he'd get her a gig, he'd be hittin' the skins
Seven years, three kids and a month later
She's still waitin' on her break yo, dude bounced ages ago
And that's the way it go...her dreams never faded away
She still believe she'll get discovered someday
But until then, she is back on the pole
Back in the hole-in-the-wall, strippin' again
Honey dip still young, only 25
And she has NO clue what she's gonna do with her life
She's in Wanderland
[Bridge]
One for the money
Two for the show
Three to get the... (three to get the...)
H-h-h-h-here we go
[Verse 3]
I seen n***** in the hood
Trade a noose for a loose-leaf
And spit flows that they boosted from Boosie
And tip hoes at the Blue Streak
Gentleman's Club, with their cash
Delusional as hell, goin' nowhere fast
And I fear I'm headed down the same path sometimes
Worried if my dreams of hittin' big are asinine
I pray to God I'm never past MY prime
Wonderin' if I should scrap these rhymes, or live in Wanderland