Wanderland

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 niggas 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 niggas 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 niggas 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