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