This is a song about "Moonlit dreams"

Its differs, with options, killing of his dreams

Mini fourteen stuffed in my denim jeans

Me and my microphone could be one

Killing our dreams, stealing our vision

I'm bald bull to my little mac competition

Confusion, moonlit masking that i'm fused in/

Bury me while i try producing my dreams

To me playing in the game is worth more than the seats

Little more weed, first class seats

Can you decipher my dreams

Like a church in debt

Even when my dreams are dead

A keen fiend with obscene dreams

Hate it when i leave

Way too big for my my fucking jeans

I rap supreme no need for dreams