Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Dreaming in Dixie

/Time speaks to me with haste and vigor/ Says: clutch your brush and create your picture/ I'm down on my luck, but I'm up on my skill/ Without an audience, though, to receive or to feel/ But I pursue it for the movement, and the trophy of truest/ To breathe on a mic, in a rhythm that's fluid/ So, for now, I grab my smokes, and a pen in earnest/ Let go of inhibitions, throw my fears in the furnace/ Dream up a following, and a label to furnish/ All of everything I need to show 'em I work it/ Nod my head, to the progression of illustrious chords/ And push to goal of my industrious chore/ Not adulation, but respect that I covet/ In the eyes of the public, competition is something/ But it's nothing to me, I smile in defiance/ They're nothing but some lambs, in the presence of lions.

/But I don't know where I'm going, hopefully to the top/
/Even if I fall, I'll be damned if I stop/
/I push, I crawl, I stall, I try/
/To keep a dream alive, that just won't die/

/Used to hustle bootlegs, in exchange for some mic-time/ For the promise of a dream, that maybe I might shine/ Used to write about Mary, then about Terry/ Then ride the beat to wherever it carries/ Pick apart myself, mostly just for the hell of it/ Just a young man, tryin' to scale my Everest/ For Terry, know I love you, I just missed you a lot/ Imagine being young, and all you want is your Pops/ Darlene, you're a queen, and a pillar of poise/ Kept food on the table, and smile on your boy/ To the haters, I'm the truth, and you're a fool to deny it/ Fly in the sky, the position of pilot/ Told me write a hit, or prepare for the silence/ I said "I ain't the type to fall and go quiet"/ I write what I feel, and what I see through my iris/ For better or for worse, for peace or for violence.

/But I don't know where I'm going, hopefully to the top/
/Even if I fall, I'll be damned if I stop/
/I push, I crawl, I stall, I try/
/To keep a dream alive, that just won't die/

/As I fly away to vacate the premise/ Pitching my lyrics in a hope for a listen/ Not wanting one million or a chain that glistens/ But like Tom Cruise, I’m on a mission/ I’m running with the pumas, invisible in the room, but/Mesmerize by a tune Hun, we move sun/ That means fire, (Hot Heat)!/ And pity those fools who (Not Me)!/ Eat emcees, medium rare/
And plan to do it ‘til I lose my hair/ I show no emotion, all you do is care/
/You're taking my quarter, it’s collect call fare/ The galaxy can’t hold me, the industry couldn’t mold me/ These women want to hold me, so why am I so lonely?/ So I tighten up with only seconds left/At the buzzer with the ref blowing his last breath/ 

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