When the clock strikes twelve tonight
when they finally dim the lights
there'll still be music in my head
I'm sure there will be til I'm dead

Id give my life for this music. And I feel like I done did it.
Cause its likely the coolest thing in my life at this minute.
Rap is blessing, a curse, and a weapon and I have honed it.
I am the only man standing as my opponent. There's no one else
that keeps me motivated. Forget the money and the fame. from
here they're seemin overrated. Don't need watches or records
platinum and golden plated. midi controller waiting at home has
got me salivatin. basically I'm startin to get it. It's a cold world.
and it's hard to live in it. I find a little comfort in these beats
for a minute. try to get crowd jumpin out their seats when they feel it
but even if it never made it to the streets I'd be in it. I been
workin instrumentals from 16 to infinite. Tryin hard to figure out if
its the jeans or the denim. that keeps my heart beatin for this dream
that I'm livin

When the clock strikes twelve tonight
when they finally dim the lights
there'll still be music in my head
I'm sure there will be til Im dead


It's been almost a decade, and I still have yet to see
my mother or father see a set played. Maybe only when
get paid proper. will I make a fan outta my mama and my papa.
But even if I never saw em standin front row.
I'd be out sun shinin so they can see their son glow.
I wont be done rhymin until Im number one so
I shoulda been done rhymin like 5 months ago.
but i'm always getting better
movin on to something greater
and if you don't wanna kick it
sionara see you later.
you want beef, have cow a bout it
you want beats. get a computer and a power outlet.
(tell em the truth jacob) I ain't gotta be the pastor
preachin to the choir bout who the motherfucking master
it starts wit a j and has a b for the last one
everybody sayin hes an asshole

When the clock strikes twelve tonight
when they finally dim the lights
there'll still be music in my head
I'm sure there will be til I'm dead

You cant sign me, i ain't a piece of paper
you can't define me, I'm changing everyday, sir.
chamillion colored caterpillar to butterfly.
feelin like I'm duncan mcloud and I'ma never die
there can be only one king of the jungle son.
this is my territory and will be till kingdom come.
if you could tell a story and fluently beat on a drum
paintin a picture beautifully sing at the top of your lungs.
then we can get it crackin pastachio style
but I don't know nobody thats really crackin they lackin in style
jackin they styles from karaoke they piled up.
lookin at me envious, and knowin that their style sucks
A pile a bucks says that I could make a better song
writin nothin down with no mo fuckin beat on.
tryin to make a whole cd that you can leave on
could never the best, cause i'm already beyond.