CORRECT LYRICS
Lyrics : Dreamchasers
I’ma chase my dream
Coming to America like Prince Akeem
I ain't never give a f**k but then I seen
High definition to get what's forever given
But nothing was never given, I build it from ground up
I started out with my basement and builded my house up
I’m rich off opportunity, money gon’ pile up
My swag on a hundred mil', how the stylist gon' style us?
Caught up in the light, caught up in the life
I see youngin on the corner with a quarter of that white
He just tryna chase his dream plus his daughter needs some wipes
And some Pampers so hе don’t give a f**k about the slammer
Hе just tryna stay alive, clutching on his hammer
World full of problems, ain't nobody gotta answer
Mommy in the grave, daddy gettin’ high
Bills steady rollin’ in, he barely gettin’ by
Same clothes everyday, he barely gettin’ fly
Er'yday he wake, he just swear to do his job
What that is? Chasin’ dreams, time is tickin’ so it seems
On his downtime he’s spittin’ and he’s sick, his flow is mean
He just want his real chance, no reality show
But the graveyard the jail cell, reality though
Crack house was his crib, the streets fathered him though
And he ain't got no Twitter page but you can follow him though
Woah
Coming to America like Prince Akeem
I ain't never give a f**k but then I seen
High definition to get what's forever given
But nothing was never given, I build it from ground up
I started out with my basement and builded my house up
I’m rich off opportunity, money gon’ pile up
My swag on a hundred mil', how the stylist gon' style us?
Caught up in the light, caught up in the life
I see youngin on the corner with a quarter of that white
He just tryna chase his dream plus his daughter needs some wipes
And some Pampers so hе don’t give a f**k about the slammer
Hе just tryna stay alive, clutching on his hammer
World full of problems, ain't nobody gotta answer
Mommy in the grave, daddy gettin’ high
Bills steady rollin’ in, he barely gettin’ by
Same clothes everyday, he barely gettin’ fly
Er'yday he wake, he just swear to do his job
What that is? Chasin’ dreams, time is tickin’ so it seems
On his downtime he’s spittin’ and he’s sick, his flow is mean
He just want his real chance, no reality show
But the graveyard the jail cell, reality though
Crack house was his crib, the streets fathered him though
And he ain't got no Twitter page but you can follow him though
Woah
