| I have a dream of a scene between the green hills
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| Clouds pull away and the sunlight’s revealed
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| People don’t talk about keeping it real
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| It’s understood that they actually will
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| And intoxicated and stimulated emcees
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| Staring in the trees, paranoid, are gone in the breeze
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| Watch them flee, hip-hop hits
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| Take a walk with me and what you’ll see
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| Is a land where the sand is made up of crushed up wax
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| And the sky beyond you is krylon blue
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| And everybody speaks in a dialect of rhyme
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| And emcees have left materialism behind them
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| Meanwhile I just grip my mic
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| And hope me and my team make it through alright
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| Because say what you will, and say what you might
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| But don’t ignore who it’s for at the end of the night
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| Because this is dedicated to the kids
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| Dedicated to wherever music lives
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| Dedicated to those tired of the same ol' same
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| And dedicated to the people advancin' the game
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| What’s real is the kids who know that something’s wrong
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| What’s real is the kids who think they don’t belong
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| What’s real is the kids who have nowhere to run
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| Who are hiding in the shadows waiting for the sun
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| I’ve seen a lot of shit, I’ve talked to a bum
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| Out on sunset strip, he asked me «How would you feel
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| If everybody acted like you didn’t exist
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| You’d lose your grip, probably eventually flip.»
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| So let it be known, the only reason that we do this
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| Is so you can pick it up and just bang your head to it
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| While emcees fight to see who can be the commonest
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| Be floatin' overhead like a space odyssey monolith
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| Over seeing the game, over being part of the same ol' thing
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| It’s all gonna change in a hurricane of darkness and pain
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| And acidic rain and promises that you won’t do it again
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| Meanwhile I just grip my mic
|
| And hope me and my team make it through alright
|
| Because say what you will, and say what you might
|
| But don’t ignore who it’s for at the end of the night
|
| Because this is dedicated to the kids
|
| Dedicated to wherever music lives
|
| Dedicated to those tired of the same ol' same
|
| And dedicated to the people advancin' the game
|
| What’s real is the kids who know that something’s wrong
|
| What’s real is the kids who think they don’t belong
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| What’s real is the kids who have nowhere to run
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| Who are hiding in the shadows waiting for the sun
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| Pulling me close, the shadow is warm inside
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| This is where I feel at home, this is my place to hide
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| Pulling me close, the shadow is warm inside
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| This is where I feel at home, this is my place to hide
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| Because this is dedicated to the kids
|
| Dedicated to wherever music lives
|
| Dedicated to those tired of the same ol' same
|
| And dedicated to the people advancin' the game
|
| What’s real is the kids who know that something’s wrong
|
| What’s real is the kids who think they don’t belong
|
| What’s real is the kids who have nowhere to run
|
| Who are hiding in the shadows waiting for the sun
|
| This is dedicated to the kids
|
| Dedicated to wherever music lives
|
| Dedicated to those tired of the same ol' same
|
| And dedicated to the people advancin' the game
|
| What’s real, everybody who doesn’t feel safe
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| What’s real, everybody who knows they’re out of place
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| What’s real, anybody with nowhere to run
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| Who hides in the shadows waiting for the sun
|
| This is dedicated to the kids
|
| Dedicated to wherever music lives
|
| Dedicated to those tired of the same ol' same
|
| And dedicated to the people advancin' the game
|
| What’s real, everybody who doesn’t feel safe
|
| What’s real, everybody who knows they’re out of place
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| What’s real, anybody with nowhere to run
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| Who hides in the shadows waiting for the sun |