I was never a huge fan of Tupac or Biggie

Consider me an outcast, I won't support the top 50 cent carbon copies

Don't got shit for me, where as my b-boys trying to take back the cities

it goes dip-dip diving, never socializing

to put it in to words I'm introverted in the silence

The monica, the man in the mirror, its whats behind this make-up that doesnt say much he wears the costume like a ball in chain

When the crowds call his name he's a janitor at night that sweeps the halls of fame

And it's all the same, it's nothing new to him, this suit and grin doesn't suit him and his shoes don't fit

Been through walking

Music on foot, and he chooses not to assume to like "fuck you"

Walking down beat street without break-dancing just rapping about things you take for granted

On the corner, I'm burning gap-sweaters and commons name

Because everything everything you said meant nothing when he put on them chains

A hundred miles I'm running on this track like I'm running for my life in pursuit of my true love



[Hook]

Full-time work part-time entertainer

My car is my dressing room, I'll show you what I'm made of.

x2



'Cause I don't do this on the side, I do it in my spare-time so spare me the canned laughter after every punchline

Hustling find it troubles the mind stumbling, fumbling, mumbling on rhymes

I hate it when crowds get easily impressed by double-time

You can't please them all, you feed it to them more maybe they'll get some respect while my city is in the storm

But I won't believe the hype, fuck the views and magazine cos most critics and failed artists take it out on acts like me

Take this show on the road with no circus

The only thing my words served was a purpose

The double edged sword I walking on, like the shoestring-budget that I work with and wear these clothes like closed curtains

A college grad with a film degree and no insurance

My eyes darker than Cliver Barker and Tim Burtons

I stare into the audience and tell it like it is

and kill them softly with a millions cuts and slices I give

Got a lot of nerve saying hip-hops dead

Made a living off your fans who think you understand them, it's pathetic

Like suburban MCs who pack up and headed to the ghetto just to get some street credit

Fuck that stop the burning

They're in paradise living off your hard earnings

Cos I never sold drugs, I never sold out

Just want my music heard, word up and no doubt



('Cause you got nothing for me 'cause you're still the same story)x4



[Hook]

Full-time work part-time entertainer

My car is my dressing room, I'll show you what I'm made of.

x2