When will my dreams come true
Don’t mean to disrespect you
A keen fiend with obscene dreams
They're pulling your sleeve, don't believe
Too much percussion and bass when i take beats
In the glass runs dry- but i have hope and i have dreams-
So fuck it, i'm platinum in the streets
Silenced, nothing is peachy keen, and so dreams,
Pack it up thirty minutes to the jet leaves
Its differs, with options, killing of his dreams
That left ya without hope
Fly as ricky steam boat
Hi my name is bob and i work at my job
Everyday losing some source of hope
Get a good job, follow your dreams
All that ass in your jeans
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