"Field of Dreams featuring Paris Wells" as written by and James Steven Pollard Max Donald Mackinnon....
So I guess I gotta

Yo, eyo

I spit like an M16, I let them all know they can have it
That flash of magic, with an imagination to match it
So catch it, it's classic, but it will not be contained
In an industry man made, cause it runs through my veins
It pumps through my brain, through my name, nothing will change
Don't make me huff and puff and turn this fucker to flames
But enough of the games, my shadow is a tidal wave
I idle there's a brighter way, fight for it night and day
I've built fires inspired to keep my hands warm
I've hopped through hurricanes
And stepped through sandstorms,
I’ve climbed cliffs, you can see what I'm dreaming
Even walked on water just to be here this evening
So here we go again, I got to prove I'm no magician to you
Rabbit in a hat rappers is clueless how I kick it
This is blood, sweat and tears
Flesh and bone a better way
A brotherhood of hope, with a megaphone at heaven’s gate

Shoot me down, raise my head
Walk my field of dreams instead
Cause there’s no way you will march on top of me
Not how this is going to be

Lift my feet, raise my head
Love and sweat and tears I've bled
Create the path I see ahead

So I guess I gotta

Walk my way instead

Yeah, check it out, yo

Well he's still kickin' it so beautifully
Bet he's re-writing the odds
Cause he knows it's not the dog in the fight
But the fight in the dog
And the kid couldn't spell for shit
But could draw like a photograph
Fuck a hit, he rather his rhyme on the wall of a poets class
He digs with a phonograph
Caught a flow and wrote the flavor that archaeologists artists audio appropriator
Ghost rider, flaming chopper, caressing the night
And chasing the glimpse of a forever fading florescent horizon
He just lights up the skies
While running through this circus
With the heart full of good vibes
That's pumping through his circuits
Live wire, high flyer
Spit fire out his lungs
A war torn mustang, through an empire of the sun
Catch him diving in his rhythm
Rhyme and gliding in his vision
Manifest music mementoes to remind him of his mission
He just rolls like a bowler
A soldiers forward composure
With butterfly net full of dreams hangin' over his shoulder he says

Shoot me down, raise my head
Walk my field of dreams instead
Cause there’s no way you will march on top of me
Not how this is going to be

Lift my feet, raise my head
Love and sweat and tears I've bled
Create the path I see ahead

So I guess I gotta

Walk my way instead

So I guess I gotta

Shoot me down, raise my head
Walk my field of dreams instead
Cause there’s no way you will march on top of me
Not how this is going to be

Lift my feet, raise my head
Love and sweat and tears I've bled
Create the path I see ahead

So I guess I gotta

Walk my way instead


Lyrics submitted by quietdream, edited by irondiet

Field of Dreams featuring Paris Wells song meanings
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