i sit alone in an empty room, with a pen and a pad
persuing this seemingly pointless dream that i have
this is the last time i'll try, if i dont make it this time
i guess i'll resort to drugs, and crime as my grind
seems like i waste my money, its why i live in the dirt
every paycheck i get goes to my demos and studio work
my producer tells me not to give up, my time is near
but i dont believe him no more, he's said it for years
i know im the dopest in this city, but nobody recognizes
they hear real lyrics and snub their nose, they dispise it
but anyways i'll try one more time, then its a broken dream
i'll give up for good and not look back, if u know what i mean
my last chance to produce a hit, im in the studio rhyming
perfect flow, perfect lyrics, perfect beats, perfect timing
my cd's mixed, my producers pushing it to the labels
i just wanna be heard, fuck being financially stable
a phone call was made, its was a dream come true
Def Jam hits me up, New York's were they want me to come to
they say if i wanna come, the plane ride is completely paid for
damn, i'll never have to worry bout spreadin the word no more
i packed my luggage, me and my producer are on our way
Nashville to New York, the airport seemed like golden pathways paved
we stepped foot through the port, 1st class seats for us
whipped my pen out to prepare a dope freestyle to bust
when i get there, there will lyrically be no stoppin me
cause ill rip anyone theyve signed if they wanna get it poppin B
but all of a sudden i heard the worst words spoken in my life
intercom speaks "May day, May Day", shit! im goin down with this flight
fuck! the planes descending, theres no way out
i can see the ground clear, were about to land on a house
i dont remember anything after that, i blacked out for good
so now im in heaven lookin down at my funeral in the hood
wishin i could have changed the world with the lyrics i wrote
but i cant, im with god tied in with these spiritual ropes.......