NYC Dream (ɛn waɪ si: dri:m)

1- Little Z, you're doing fine. One day at a time, rhyme after rhyme, fighting all that hype just to make it to that lime light. Sights straight ahead. You're right, and I hate what you said, but it's true. So, I'm paying my dues, feeling abused getting cut by that knife of life, searching for clues, waiting for cues. But there comes a point when you gotta choose whether or not you're gonna win or lose the battle. Fell off, get back in the saddle, gotta dust off, get to practicing now. Rub that rust off. Back to singing square one. You lack the luster, get that duster kid, muster what Blair did. God threw him a curve and he won, he lost a Dad, and Gene could've lost a son. But instead of turning tail and run, he faced it, shoe untied, so he laced it, took the pain and replaced it. Fuck a base hit. Now he's knockin' home runs with goals so close that he can taste it. It's all about attitude. You can't walk around wearing your past like a battle wound. You can spit at God, or push come past, or mush from last, like the Iditarod. Wear your father's name proud, cause he lit your flame. You about to hit your fame and he's right there… he's got a front row seat to the game.

Hook *

2- Come on, tell me you've been blocked, shocked, popped and been knocked down. You're in stock, locked, cocked, so get up blaw! I wanna feel that adrenaline. Without a gun, you can feel and you're bending them. Ruling, you're a bull pullin' in about twenty men. Till you collapse. You're spilling these raps. Take it from Eminem, but do me a favor, spare me son, don't compare me with the one, 'cause they're ain't no comparison. See, if hip- hop has pants, then he's wearing them, went from poor to the top, pop some pills up in the air again. You wanna talk about beatin' the odds, see people walking around speaking to God. You can do whatever you want, but whatever you do, you better not front. 'Cause he can look into you like a see-through blunt. Without your wits, fourth and one, and it might lead you to punt. Get out the dumps, pump it up. You need to see through the slump and bump, bump.
Just like that you rule it, cuttin' through it, you're a bullet. Just be real, don't pull it like a fast one or you'll come across as the last one. On that shelf grow some brass ones. No more lies, my bar raised high. No one can stop this guy, but me myself and I. Quit tryin' hide behind your pride, take the thorn out your side, and breath deep baby, just enjoy the ride.

Hook *

3- And then there's me, Zubris, Z, trying to do this, clueless. His brew is getting so hot, it's ready to boil over. You're betting not. This little oil soldier got BP flows you can't stop. Black gold, like crack sold. Quit trying this, you can't drop without a couple hundred scientists. This lion sits, waitin' for prey. Hatin' the day, killing all these mutherfuckers with this mic g, rough on the psyche, might be tough as losing a love, refusing a hug to a past one. My hole's still dug from that last one, but I'm about to get up and out of it. Filled my cup, you pout as I down a sip, found my cloud nine and right now I sit, listen to the sound, how loud I get. It's like a hole in one on every round I hit. I'm always sharing bowls of every pound I split. Lit about to spit some outstanding shit. Running from the start when the ground I hit. But, I gotta be practicing what I'm preaching, beseeching you push yourself past. Be last man standing. Ass off that porch and I'm demanding, pass off that torch without coming down, crash landing.

* Take me home, take me home. I won't go till you say so. Take me home, take me home. I won't go home till you say so.