Lyrics:
pledge allegiance to the 12 gauge Mossberg
I'm that nigga Mr. Sawed-off Leather face got a big gun in your face
Behind that bush and when they roll by
We
a war It's a war (there's a war going on)
When the was pop off where the fuck you gon be
In the front or the back city under attack
Every nigga from
is nightmare
Death is a dream
Mine is a lifestyle full of screams
Without my pain life would be so easy but
Without my pain who the fuck would I be
and laid down to sleep
That began the nightmare, but on my street!
[Fresh Prince]
It was burnin in my room like an oven
My bed soaked with sweat,
dreams
Every time I have a nightmare
Things aren't what they seem
It's an alcoholic nightmare
The shadows fall upon the street
There's no turning back.
I
when we left
But when I got home and laid down to sleep
That began the nightmare, on my street!
It was burnin' in my room like an oven
My bed soaked
I can make it someday
Don't ask me if I'm doing okay
I'm living the dream
And it's turning to a nightmare every night
Living the dream
Of someone else
a whole beef sandwich, yeah
I told him Sloppy Joe the nigga
762, sittin' backseat like it came
With a chauffeur in it
Yeah, fresh out the court
By: jimmy buffett
1970
Every day held a new surprise
I watched the hunger burning in my sister's eyes
The paste-board shack we called a home
Would
shoppin' my demo, I was tryna shine
Every motherfucker told me that I couldn't rhyme
Now I could let these dream killers kill my self-esteem
Or use my
to circles
Every other movement is slowed by your mind
That's why stabbing them blind is no crime
With no REM. your bound to cave in
And life in
and laid down to sleep
That began the nightmare, but on my street!
[Fresh Prince]
It was burnin in my room like an oven
My bed soaked with sweat,
Like me, in this dream
I think I must have done something to the wifi, you know
As well, you know, to stop them
Or just cut the battery, I don't know
every bit of
Confidence from your conscious wit' it
Toss it to my man in the back field
He got options wit' it
Obama phone, really came in handy
I lined
allabies, I'm with Joe and De La Hoya
Fight on, ran up in the crib and turned the lights on
Yo get this, Mothafucka! I don't leave no witness
Like Larry
(hey-ah)
Ain't nobody you can call, you can't even call Saul
We're all being held against our will
No American dream, it's a nightmare (hey)
Moon by day
and desires,
right here, right now,
in this little section.
I have been in showbusiness
for 10 years and every time
I have to go back on the stage
I have this
sees a vision of home long forgotten
Another one hears his dead parents calling him
The girl dreams of fame the world over
And all of them follow their
home, you got on every fucking light like
You paying bills up in this bitch the fuck you think I'm made of money?
It's like my cash is not as fast
had money and went to school
But in your dreams you can't win, I'm a fuckin' nightmare
Tommy Ray Glatman, dream assassin, Dreamscape
You don't know
with his bike
And he's got Guthrie running in his bones
He's the hobo kid who's left his home
And his Beatles records and the Rolling Stones
ain't nothin' for ya
Two shots, my allabies, I'm with Joe and De La Hoya
Fight on, ran up in the crib and turned the lights on
Yo get this, Mothafucka!
Vandross' 1994 interpretation of The Impossible Dream The Quest written by Joe Darion in 1966
The lyric phrase "proud" is a nod to the motivational call by
Bombs still bursting in Birmingham
Bull Conner just turned over in his grave
This is the nightmare we dare not dream about
We throw slow-jam basement
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