From the Black Snow 2 Album out now:
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Lyrics:
Hook:
Do dreams really come true, and if so what must you do for your dream's light to come through, I'ma dream till I come to a time when my dreams aint dreams no more because I realize them.
Verse 1:
In a field of dreams I feel my dreams like I slept on a braille bed, and live em, because well-done is way better than well-said, like life is way better than well-dead, I've marched so many miles I can't even spell tread, countless dubs of blue, and quality time in the Stu, slaving overtime to make this dream come true, (it's got to), I'm just manifesting the predestined, and blessing each who digest me like beef stew, In school they called me quiet boy, I mean I had a lot to say but I was stuck in my skull trapped like a silent ward, no time for whores my goal was planetary, my own lone companion and soul's advisory, and to my dismay, to this day still a war's is on, form a truce with my spirit, now we grapple morons, and poor songs are spreading all over, they got it all wrong, I'll make their art over, arz nova.
Hook
Verse 2:
Pour my soul into a sound-scape, paint the horizon with my mind state, don't worry, I'll shield you from the flurries, it's a tale of insatiable yearning, my always-there-hunger to pillage, plunder, and tear the industry a shunter, from sound from the ground under, for hearsay, weapon V will technically, slice it like a section c, but it seems execs will never see, still I strive to rhyme restless, despite my like 5 to 9 efforts, train of thought - drive reckless, prime objective: to crash on the market, then blast off my star-ship's divine essence, designed infectious, servants plot to see me fail, but it's a lot the V will prevail, global takeover with these CD's through retail, use the equator as my 3-rail, and speed-line to a direction above to lessen your love for these Thespian thugs, pretentious panders and amateurs, nursery rhyme handlers, meet the sorcerer, bet you'll get vanquished before I finish my gang spliff, I'm warning ya, broadcasting from my 3rd cornea, and grasping endlessly throughout supremacy, This is a starving man's plight the saga of an author who white gloves by day and rocks mics by night, it's my wagon to my calling, writing in deep meditation, while waiting impatient for dream realization.
Hook
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WE KEEP HIP HOP ALIVE!