Yo, mic check/ from the ashes/ from the ashes of this rap shit/ kicking it how it’s supposed to be man/ Yeah, I was raise on this shit, so don’t wonder why I sound like this.

Yo, I know my style of music’s dead coz the 90s have gone and drifted/ Vanished into the air like the winds that carry the missing/ I aint embarrassed to say that I missed it but the whole narrative shifted, into something that’s different, something that’s unrealistic/ Have it all without going the distance and have fortunes in business and cars in an instance/ A wife, crib, even a mistress/ Just have it all, be it all, even see it all, and grabbing all that shit with interest/ I heard a young sucker say that he wished for riches through lottery tickets, so everyday could be a Christmas/ And yet he does nothing to change/ The fool’s stuck in the same kitchen, dreaming of fame while he’s fucken scrubbing dishes/ That doesn’t make any sense coz fate always gotta depend on decisions and in the end, YOU EITHER PLAY YOUR HAND OR PLAY THE VICTIM/ another cog in the old system that can’t function outside of a prison. (Cuts) “I do it because I want to, not to staying in the game”/ “Not to stay in the game”/ “I do it because I want”/ “I do it because I want to”/ “Fuck the fame” Y que paso con esta mierda, tanto juego de egos, tanto hueon que aparenta, aqui/ mierda que inventan, y , a Los 40 de la casa de mama no pueden salir/ y otros que vienen llegando, prendieron la tele y hoy quieren representarlo/ hablando de autos de putas de tetas, posando pensando mas en la foto que en la libreta/ y dime , que esta pasando?/ no Es que vivan en un sueno, Es que viven sonando/ y a donde vamos? si otros estan ensuciando lo que dejamos, rimas ya no estan pasando por donde pasamos/ cegados por lo artificial, atormentados por no tener lo material, ni Lo primordial/ atados entorno a su consumo, yo solo escribo, esquivo, fumo y fluyo bro.

(Hook) x2 Dear journal, I don’t know why we act this way/ I see the whole world stressing like its judgment day/ coz if you got kids, better watch out where they play/ and if your grown now, better watch out what you say Some people still call me a dreamer/ it seems to me I keep talking about this a lot more than I need ta, make moves to see the, end product produced/ since back in the days of school I’ve been refining the skills that I’m able to use/ when the term “freestyles” meant to spit bars from the top, and Majikal would handle beats while the cipher kicked off/ in came the emcees to see who had mastered the craft/ cos it wasn’t enough to stay on beat so a battle would start/ those were the old days, we were young and had now worries/ now’s a different story, seems to me that we’re always in a hurry/ chasing time to try get money/ finding the right balance in life, time wise and making it into something/ this aint a negative though yo/ it’s a reflection at best for you to get the concept of a mindset/ of a life lead and a rhyme pad/ where the lines bleed what my heart felt/ and my mind set, turning the negative into a positive yo. (Hook) x2 Yeah, it’s been mad years of anticipating/ waiting, debating on when to make it, I feel like I’ve been saying the shit for ages. No more procrastinating. I’m solely focused on burning holes in these open pages. Two kids kick a freestyle for the entertainment/ having the same dream and both having the same aiming/ sharing the same feed when both of us needed a payment and weed when we’re aching and we needed to reach an escapement/ night falls I’d be full flowing and wake the neighbours/ I can’t explain how a day painting a freight train changed me/ gave me a brain framed at saving and maintaining a game plagued where the greats fade coz of the haters/ Who wanna be us? Cos now where two freaks on the speakers/ perform miracles like oil leaking from portraits of Jesus/ and all lyrical, like all forms of informative pieces and fuck the cynical, cos all those whores are beneath us/ man we’ve been doing this since we had checker plate laces and when to bed thinking “how I want to be famous” and rock stages/ with more lights than a spaceship but life’s always rearranging.

I’m hanging for success, but I feel I’m losing my chances/ I could’ve used a mentor to show me ropes and the answers/ instead I turned to music so I admired the gangsters/ of sex, power and breath, all to make an advancement/ my mind infected with irreversible cancers/ of fantasise and memories, all types of negatives/ I carry with me, like every day when I’m at this monotonous madness/ sometimes I don’t feel I fit in/ and that’s a problem I think I got as a kid/ grabbing on puzzles to solve them not knowing where to begin/ but I’m working on it though/ and I bet it shows/ SOMESTIMES I JUST DONT REGISTER, THATS WHY I CANT KEEP A FLOAT/ I’m trying to feed a home/ it’s not me trying to be alone/ you seem to only want for me to call/ I get defensive even though I know it’s reasonable for me to reach the phone, and let you know/ (Hook x2) That just in case I never get a chance to say it, I’m saying it now/ I know we’re fighting coz I’m never around/ that’s just in case I never get to say it (disculpame) Too young and foolish to know just where it started/ was blind and mislead, path was all departed/ I kept it G though/ at least that’s what it felt like/ until I crashed and burnt/ this could’ve been the end but no/ forgiving the bad in me, forgive the stolen memories/ I do it just for us now/ also I know its hard/ we break up and make up/ how do you still stand beside me? (Hook) x2

I had often fantasized about having a life/ with a big block of land, with a bunch of kids playing outside/ a 1963 impala my ride, with the chrome plated toggle switches that you flick for adjusting the height/ and even though that life existed inside of my mind/ I felt my destiny was there and it was just a matter of time/ and all I had to do was sit back, wait and recline/ just a foolish kid, thinking the whole world could be mine/ but I soon learnt the dangers of making assumptions/ thinking that something would function and then it turns into nothing/ being so fucken stubborn and not moving or budging/ instead of loosing something to make room for some sort of improvement/ I made changing not up for discussion (right)/ I’ve been too long in my ways I aint gonna take advise nor can I hack making the sacrifice of playing it nice/ just to turn and have my back stabbed with a knife (Chorus) x2 I’m change stuck/ I’m changing no more/ more more more again I aint making no changes/ I love sampling shit/ trying arrangements, same crate at the record store, way down at the train station/ the Wax Museum, a small room, plenty of flavours/ and you can see, that finding a record is sacred/ when I was broke and I could afford keyboards to play with/ I took the end of songs, looped them and making the bass fit/ and then fucken rap the shit out of them all day/ literal statement/ shiiiiit and look at me now/ it takes a few crews to do what I do solo/ with obscuring the truth for the good of a promo/ between the news and these fools I feel used and abused/ I never thought about myself as a man with a SUIT, but if a had to choose/ I’d probably choose DIAMONDS and jewels/ and leave that Club shit for those singles who wear timberland boots/ cos I’ve always been a SPADE man, working and paying dues. (Chorus) x2 Hey yo this is Alonso Majikal/ I got a message for anybody out there who feels they got a talent, feel they have a passion but they’re scared, they got a fear/ I’m here to tell you, just follow it/ just do what you’re good/ coz if you don’t, the only person you’re betraying is yourself/ you know what I mean? Yeah!

Its like same shit but a different day/ dragging my ass out of bed, packing my lunch that I made from yesterdays dinner plate/ getting to work and I feel worse coz I’m late and my boss is onto my case/ busting my balls like a pool break/ I need to make moves that include having my dues payed and a few rules that improve my chances of turning a new page/ my shift is through but I spew it’s only been Tuesday, so my temper just blew like a can of flammable butane/ I’m feeling time get shorter, feel upside down in a tank of water, escaping a straight jacket, in order to put clothes on my daughter/or maybe I order get a new job to support her instead of following orders/ coz I’m a desperate man/ jumping boarders and hoping onto a land, were all is supposed to be grand but all is mostly a scam/ but if I could just follow the plan/ it could be all over I just hope for the chance (Hook) x2 I feel my life is a race/ right now I feel like the floor’s made of a clock’s face and I’m chained to the 12 and I can see the hands as they, pass from a 7 to 8/ have to brace for the pain coz those hands are made from a razor blade I pull my sleeves up, slap chalk on my hands like a dead lifter, but the fucken weight of the world is too great/ I need change/ or at least I need a decent pay raise like I asylum seekers that’s needing their VISAs/ and if indeed leaving this cage means I need to succeed, needless to say, I need less needs for fleeing this cage/ cos these days I feel weak at the knees praying, like demons are leaning in erasing my dreams as I say them/ I here trying exceed, heaving and trying to achieve/ in need positive leads to proceed confidently/ so my competency ultimately would leave me living at least moderately, if not, comfortably/ but have you ever felt life was a race?/ a rollercoaster without the holster or arm brace/ feel like a chump every time you do what your boss says/ you can’t afford to be pumping breaks in this car chase/ you know what I’m saying when I say

The first time I meet ya was at a party and I couldn't wait to get ya/ I heard of ways that you infect the mind and body of all the men that test ya/ they try to take it too fast and they always end up messed up/ shiiit/ and I had gone through all those muthafucken lectures, consequences of my actions if I disrespect ya/ coz I had heard of men that put their tongue on your golden completion and immediately addiction set/ and that's despite their pay or their intellect/ any man you intercept falls a victim to your breath enough to make decisions that they regret/ especially if I'm longing to connect and I'm hanging for that long neck/ a couple years ago it wasn't how it went/ I'd try to play it cool and pace myself but end up on the rocks instead/ next thing you know I'm tripping off my fucken head/ I'm in my room watching the room spinning right from bed. (Hook) x2 Why don't you just drink today/ and have all your problems fade/ why don't you just smoke this J and grow wings to fly away I had heard the reputation of a Mary Jane/ a woman who got fame soothing men who be in constant pain/ I got the hook up from my man Ranga, and he explained that she alters mind frames/ fuck it just roll a three paper joint, I'll be the first to bat up, and if that worth don't add up, like calculators with corrupted data/ I'll give the chick the flick like it don't matter/ coz nothing makes me gladder than moving on when chick go n choose to act up/ and like an improvising actor, I winged it and went with it but nothing could prepare me for not winning/ I start smoking, my heart beat slowing, I start moving in slow motion like I'm floating on top of a boat/ but in the vastness of the ocean I don't feel alone no more or feel I need to mask emotions/ coz this chick has got me so hopeless I can't focus and chicks whenever I try to hold smoke in

Back in the days, I lived in Vine Court off Vine Street/ in the littered streets of Braybrook, the 3019/ a weatherboard home painted in off whites and if you stood and looked straight at it, you could tell it slanted to the right/ my house was crowded so I’m outside all the time, my neighbours kids are looking at me through the cracks of their venetian blinds/ and so one day I call one out to ride his bike, his clothes reeked of cigarette smoke/ a skinny kid with blue eyes/ and every now-and-then he’d sneak a smoke from his house/ id take it round the corner, light it, try blow rings from my mouth/ so while we chill I’d ask him why his mother never had doubts about her pack of cigarettes and she may have miscount/ you see, his mother drank a lot/ she’d get pissed and start ranting and raving out on the streets, embarrassing her kids/ and she’d be fighting with their old man till I’d get knocks at the door/ can I sleep over?/ I’d look at him and say sure. (Hook) x2 And it’s like parents just aint worth it no more/ I could hear the noises of our neighbours scream, while we’re sleeping/ and you could tell me man I’d keep a secret/ I’ll keep it closer than my heart beats inside me living off vine street. (Cuts) “drugs by the selection”/”some use pipes, others use injections” And as the bus pulls up, I hop off and run into my man/ my boy Plazma, got his name from squirting cans/ I got along with him coz being the same fan of hip hop meant overseeing a man’s tan/ and he invites me to change plans/ it’s all good brother lets kick back, spin records and play tracks/ smoke some weed from the same sack or even have a scratch/ but those belt turntables make the wax lag/ I stop and think of the situation at hand when Plaz tells me that the house got raided by cops in a dibbie van/ his grandmother, oblivious to the scam, was scared stuck in a trance like sand caught in a hour glass/ just a suburb in the skirts of the city/ step outside the house, look across the street and feel pity/ when at the same time I see the neighbour out with a ciggy/ 10 year old getting high in the fumes of graffiti. (Hook) x2 (Cuts) “drugs by the selection”/”some use pipes, others use injections”/ “time was nothing to us, we were just kids”.

(Hook) x2 When a fan becomes the man/ and people worship land they walk on and wished it was them signing the autograph/ how does it happen so fast or was it all part of a plan that began the moment it met with the right chance. Where do I begin?/ sitting out here thinking/ sipping on beer drinking while tripping about existence/ visioning higher living/ scribbling algorithms for figuring out a system and wriggling out this prison/ but where do I begin?/ I ask myself again to make decisions, and formulate a way to start a business/ and even though it might be pain staking/ I’d turn the world into a slaughter house if it means bringing home the bacon/ cos dreaming of my fate and the same as trying to make it/ and trying to make it’s enough to leave me in a stressed relation/ this life I’m in wont SUIT, in need and alteration/ or at least some patience when I’m static like an AM station/ I’m daydreaming, thinking about the scene and tour routes and fans screaming/ tripping on how I flip my words out and then you see me/ featured in magazines and fold outs/ and all believe me coz I be leaving no doubt! (Hook) x2 When a fan becomes the man/ and a man he’s a fan of comes up to thank him for rocking the fucken jam/ it’s got me bugging mad/ cos I remember busting raps with the brush in hand, combing through the flow so I could make waves like Puffy had/ eyes tear up like mace, memories flooding back/ first time I heard Outcast in my grandmothers flat, “I got five one it”/ had me thinking what the fuck was that/ rapping about dubs before I had a nut in my fucken sack/ now I’m hitting different stages all across the land/ walking into stores and seeing our releases on the stands/ linking up with like-minded mic controllers who understand and do this the regardless of hate, just like my brother Bangs/ this love and passion for lushes samples and drums that smack/ produce food for thought, that settle the mental hunger pangs/ it a must I rap about something that matter for a younger fan, so maybe I’ll be in the crowd the day that he becomes the man.

(Priest) Lord Jesus Christ, grant that our brother may sleep here in peace/ until you awaken him to glory/ for you are the resurrection and the light/ then he will see you face to face/ and in your light will see light/ and know the splendour of God/ for you live and reign forever and ever/ Amen. If this were my last day on earth I wouldn’t need my money/ it’s not like I won’t make the afterlife if I forget to bring my wallet/ just bring the Jonny Red so you can pop it in my coffin/ maybe a couple stems, when in heaven I could puff them/ I’d ask my wife for the wedding ring I gave her so I could take it with me/ that way you’d be my girl forever/ my life insurance means that you’d be set up, so when the days get leather, you’ll be sunny in the greyest weather/ and while I’m chilling there relaxing, I’d like to be holding my little girl’s first pair of Nike air maxes/ a pair of Chuck Taylors for me/ a set of Dickie pants with a cuff and a crease, one of my stater jackets/ so when I’m dead and deceased, give me a pen and some sheets/ a couple of beats so my lyrics accompany me/ an I’ll be riding passenger in your seat, when you’re daydreaming and cruising the streets/ know-what-I-mean? (Hook) x2 Death comes to us all, like the final seconds of songs/ but there’ll be other tracks to play one/ so drink some liquor if you want to live long/ and pour some out on the floor/ if you got people you wished they won’t gone The way I view the world, nobody has a fallacy/ every human being on this planet had beliefs/ so just remember in the coffin it aint me/ it’s the body of a person reconnected with the galaxies/ coz whether you see or intercept it spiritually, one way or other you leave/ there aint no plan B/ coz everybody that’s been has seemed to want to deceive death but never got away with it clean/ now let me portrait the scene, at the time of my death Id either be tortured and sent to a bottomless depth/ or beamed up to receive heavenly breath/ and to never again feel the regret with the people I’ve met/ I’m getting older now like video cassettes/ plus there’s so much bullshit out there I might disconnect the internet/ I wait for intellect to intercept/ but I guess we’re doomed to consume and just hope there aint no incidents. (Hook) x2 Yeah, death comes to us all/ but there’ll be other tracks/ other tracks to play on Yeah/ this song is dedicated to mister Boba/ Bobadilla/ Dedicated to Eddie/ Erica’s family you-know-what-I-mean/ sending my love to them/ peace/ I’m out.