A song explaining how great it would be to get noticed...
hiphop
rap
underground
punchline
dead broke
da gloves
round ii
Story behind the song
Wanting to catch dat deal...
Lyrics
Its dat place im tryna be when the sun-pops-up…
Cuz im trying maintain for when my son-pops-up…
And at times, I consider the gun-pop-up…
To the dome, but thank god that my lung-drops-up…
Amaze for days, but somehow this game-be-blown…
I got potential, essentials to make my name-be-known…
But critics look at me like I rock a crazy-dome…
But it takes a lot more then that, to faze-me-holmes…
I just wanna studio in itselfs…
For rappin, which is summin I kno I can fuckin school-you-in-itself…
You speak of “gangsta paradise” like coolio-himself…
And call it a track, talking bout your tools-up-in-ya-belt…
I can take it past that, pass gats…
A relax track, or even a song where I can diss madd-cats…
Punchline, tried to get myself a name as Chilla…
So Im hopin these dudes find out that Round II’s illa…I wanna be known…
What else I gotta do? To get looked at and signed…
I get aggravated, makes me wanna not look at rhymes…
Wasting my time, cuz even when found in my prime…
Making it to the top, is like a mountain to climb…
A fall that’s too steep, and too long of a leap…
A lil bit to deep, and really hard to reach…
To where it’s asleep, and im counting on the sheep…
Just want em to peep, yours truly bouncing on da beat…
Just listen to one track, guarantee youll holla back…
Don’t care if my dough stack, I just wanna show-cats…
But its never, cuz I continue to write these letters…
To labels that swear that they found somebody better…
But damn im hotter, then Hawains that’s rockin sweaters…
But they say I stink more then some boxers sweaters…
Lets be real, somebody gotta feel…
It seems unreal, that no matter what I reveal nobody appeals…
I love this rap thing, aint no need to mistake it…
But damn I should quit, cuz im never gone make it…
And trust me, I kno, it takes a lot to get in though…
But I work so hard and labels toss it out the window?
Im full of anger, raps close to being endangered…
Cuz when it’s industry, ima always be a stranger…
Im sick of this underground and being buried…
Want everyone to hear my joints, kinda seems necessary…
But then again I do it for myself, and that’s necessary…
But still my feelings “come up short” like February…
I got lead-to-bury, words for my pad to express…
In da lab-to-excess, but most cats bag-me-to-rest…
Or automatically believe that I brag-im-da-best…
I aint saying all that, fact im lacking-my-rep…
I just think im better then being at the back-of-the-list…
But I don’t stop, in fact, im stackin-da-hits…