Wide Awake(3 A.M.)

I'ma run it right down to the wire My time on Earth, is not for hire I am one, with the spirit of fire, 3 3 A.M, wide awake I'm not sure what's real, or fake Is this really the deal that you want to make Riding the wave, while y'all lost in the wake It's not morning, when I wake So I'm not mourning, when I wake I mean, I'm getting paper, for f*ck's sake Moving leaves, like a rake, rolling up my sleeves Time to pack it up, like Grieves The only job I need, is Steve's That's a big Apple, but these pix-ar fire I might stretch the truth, in the booth, but I'm not a liar Soaring higher, to the sound of a celestial choir I admire my desire, to inspire I'ma run it right down to the wire My time on Earth, is not for hire I am one, with the spirit of fire Forming the body of water, with the breath of life All this strife, is a knife, cutting our connection to the ground Changing the world, with my sound, 3, 3, 3 Honestly, I had to do it, had to prove it to myself That I've got what it takes, to raise the stakes I'll choose a face full of cakes, over a face full of fakes Man is, what he makes, huh Soaking up these summer days I've spent them in dumber ways Laying pipe, in a plumber phase Lost in the beat, that the drummer plays 3 A.M, wide awake I'm not sure what's real, or fake Is this really the deal that you want to make Riding the wave, while y'all lost in the wake It's not morning, when I wake So I'm not mourning, when I wake I mean, I'm getting paper, for f*ck's sake Moving leaves, like a rake, rolling up my sleeves Time to pack it up, like Grieves The only job I need, is Steve's That's a big Apple, but these pix-ar fire I might stretch the truth, in the booth, but I'm not a liar Soaring higher, to the sound of a celestial choir All this powerful poetry, with profound philosophy I'm past the ceiling, passing passionate healing, all around If she's the fox, then I'm the hound, hunting her down Turning up, chasing the crown, no mixer in the cup Young buck, I'm no pup, 9 points on the rack I need a hundred joints, and a pack Flipping a sack, I'll never lack, huh I'm always on track, I'm no hack, I'll never crack Cutting the slack, like I need a plaque That being said, it'll never get to my head I was doing this, long before the bread My blood, isn't even red, it's poetry instead Turning all this lead, to gold, I've got hatred, in a hold Feeling confident, and bold, when the story is told I was on the streets, in the cold Do you really think, I'll ever fold Honestly, I went through it, had to do it To prove it to myself, that I've got what it takes To raise the stakes, I'll choose a face full of cakes Over a face full of fakes Man is, what he makes, huh