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Artist: Brother El
Album:  Through the Cracks of Concrete
Song:   Broken Dreams
Typed by: OHHLA Webmaster DJ Flash

I'm tired of {motherfuckers} plain and simple, bitin my {shit}
They don't feel that, nope

One quarter of a century old
Bold, mentally, physically, massive
Visually, altenate, passive
Hope my crafts are tight, heh
I'll be aight, solo, all fresh dolo
And day and night, I write (I write)
And when the wind blows I fight, I show and prove
Aerodynamics, molded from ceramics (yeah)
Theory, let loose now gigantic
And move way past stress, don't regress
I got way too much finesse, heh..
.. son take hold of your bootstraps, when your shoes ran over
Talkin bout how you clap, I don't respect that
Nor shall I wet that
The streets is tough, time is rough
I don't forget that (I don't)
See yeah, cause when I fell out of the scene
.. heh, nobody cared
I wasn't prepared, and no one shared
any information, still patient
Waitin for a time to hear my rhyme
.. all I had was broken dreams, anger, stagnation
Pacin the streets, chasin, scraps to eat
The more you gave, the more I ate
The more disease, the more disease, the more disease
Manifested - please please - in my belly
Floatin like jelly, you can't tell me
no stories of rough seasons
I've been through a lot, huh, and I'm still SCREAMIN..
.. I'm not dreamin.. hah, countdown

Ten.. nine.. eight
Like this, well {fuck} it

Broken dreams, anger, stagnation
I'm pacin, but I'm still patient
Aww man {fuck} that let's get it together
In my time!