It Won't Die
*Each verse represents a different age of the rapper, and yet the dream won’t die.* Buried in the coffin I was staring at the panel. If I rap down here will they hear it through the gravel? Will the rumble of my voice reach up to their sandals? Get ‘em dancin’ once again, like shadows from the candle? But wait- am I dead? If I’m a ghost I could still be substantial. Like haunt these tombs and scare away vandals. Searching for that cane I got from my friend Randall. There I found it and so I grab it by the handle, give that wood a tap tap and hope that it rattles. Sounds like the old-folks home in Seattle where I used to dazzle all the damsels with babble. I spit more words than Scrabble, more hits than Mickey Mantle rhythmic with my ramble! Kept a mic hidden in my flannels, waiting for my friend Nathanial when he showed up to battle. I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die! When I was younger, I still had that hunger to rhyme, but with work, family, church- no wonder I had no time. When you deny something it bubbles up inside you. I had to rap. Even in a drive-thru! I’ll take a shake and a junior bacon and make it with fries too! I couldn’t stop. Even tho I tried to! But on a broader setting, my family started dreading, hanging with me one time I got kicked out of daughter’s wedding, for trying to freestyle over Otis Redding… But my baby boy Archie he would love it. He was always down to party. He would tap on his carseat while I cooked up Chef Boyardee and he would slap his hanging car keys like it was a cymbal. Before he was born I took a stethoscope and rapped over his heartbeat. Because moments for music to flow is elusive but sounds all around us have multiple use it depends on how you’re viewing ‘em. I can get a beat out of hold music, seat belt dings, windshield wipers, turn signals, and even chewing gum! I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die! When I was a youngster. I rhythmatic lyrical tonguester. Teenage, street rage, could flip it like Munster. Me and my buddy Paul got in trouble in study hall because we were sayin words dirty, like muddy paw. And the principal caught us, when we got to his office my attention centered on the intercom hangin’ by the wall sockets. And before they could stop us Paul was banging on boxes and I was bustin’ the pockets. So they sent me home running for three days but that night was homecoming there’s no way that I’m not going. So I snuck in the back, kept a low profile, everything was fine till the marching band’s goin wild. All the sudden I couldn’t stop or control mouth or control feet and I started to stroll down onto the field and I started rappin’ for the whole crowd, pumpin’ up the whole house, given ‘em mo-town. Before those days I used to say, “when I grow up I’m going to a rapper I’m going to be brave and I’m going to do it till my grave!” I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die!
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*Each verse represents a different age of the rapper, and yet the dream won’t die.* Buried in the coffin I was staring at the panel. If I rap down here will they hear it through the gravel? Will the rumble of my voice reach up to their sandals? Get ‘em dancin’ once again, like shadows from the candle? But wait- am I dead? If I’m a ghost I could still be substantial. Like haunt these tombs and scare away vandals. Searching for that cane I got from my friend Randall. There I found it and so I grab it by the handle, give that wood a tap tap and hope that it rattles. Sounds like the old-folks home in Seattle where I used to dazzle all the damsels with babble. I spit more words than Scrabble, more hits than Mickey Mantle rhythmic with my ramble! Kept a mic hidden in my flannels, waiting for my friend Nathanial when he showed up to battle. I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die! When I was younger, I still had that hunger to rhyme, but with work, family, church- no wonder I had no time. When you deny something it bubbles up inside you. I had to rap. Even in a drive-thru! I’ll take a shake and a junior bacon and make it with fries too! I couldn’t stop. Even tho I tried to! But on a broader setting, my family started dreading, hanging with me one time I got kicked out of daughter’s wedding, for trying to freestyle over Otis Redding… But my baby boy Archie he would love it. He was always down to party. He would tap on his carseat while I cooked up Chef Boyardee and he would slap his hanging car keys like it was a cymbal. Before he was born I took a stethoscope and rapped over his heartbeat. Because moments for music to flow is elusive but sounds all around us have multiple use it depends on how you’re viewing ‘em. I can get a beat out of hold music, seat belt dings, windshield wipers, turn signals, and even chewing gum! I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die! When I was a youngster. I rhythmatic lyrical tonguester. Teenage, street rage, could flip it like Munster. Me and my buddy Paul got in trouble in study hall because we were sayin words dirty, like muddy paw. And the principal caught us, when we got to his office my attention centered on the intercom hangin’ by the wall sockets. And before they could stop us Paul was banging on boxes and I was bustin’ the pockets. So they sent me home running for three days but that night was homecoming there’s no way that I’m not going. So I snuck in the back, kept a low profile, everything was fine till the marching band’s goin wild. All the sudden I couldn’t stop or control mouth or control feet and I started to stroll down onto the field and I started rappin’ for the whole crowd, pumpin’ up the whole house, given ‘em mo-town. Before those days I used to say, “when I grow up I’m going to a rapper I’m going to be brave and I’m going to do it till my grave!” I got this dream inside that won’t die. It’s been around since I was like five- it won’t die! This dream inside, it’s still alive after all of this time, this dream inside- it won’t die!
dope track I like this brother I listen to a few songs before great work I like your style brother you be talking about something substance and meaning clear lyrics as well Tag This ⭐ I'm feeling this ❤️ WAKE EM UP 🗣️🔊 Word Up ⬆️ Respect 🤜🤛 Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
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I LIKE YOUR STYLE OF MUSIC PERFECT STYLES GUETTO BRO NICE VOICE NICE BEAT WOW SOLID FLOW RESPECT CHAMPION I LIKE YOUR STYLE OF RAPPER WOOOOOW SOLID BRO WAKE EM UP 🗣️🔊Straightenin' 👌 Respect 🤜🤛 Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
You did it dawgggggggg! I thought I was good. You’re the goat. I bow to you sir 🙏 Legend! 👑 Champion 🏆 I love the 95 and like I was 5 bro. That’s so damn hard!!!! I love doing that shit. Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
🥵Nice work fr fr Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
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FIRE 🔥 respect Respect 🤜🤛 Bars: Dope 🔥 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Dope 🔥
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dam fam respect lyrics bars story painted in the verses good work Stay lit ⚡ Bars: Perfect 💯 Delivery: Perfect 💯 Impression: Perfect 💯
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