Jacob Price - Cinderella [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

[Hook]
When the clock strikes twelve tonight
When they finally dim the lights
There'll still be music in my head
There probably will be til I'm dead

[Verse 1]
I'd give my life for this music
And I feel like I done did it
Because it's likely the coolest thing in my life at this minute
Rap is blessing, a curse, and a weapon and I have honed it
I am the only man standing as my opponent
There's no one else that keeps me motivated
Forget the money and the fame
From here they're seemin' overrated
Don't need watches or records, platinum and golden plated
MIDI controller waiting at home has got me salivatin'
Basically I'm startin to get it
It's a cold world and it's hard to live in it
I find a little comfort in these beats for a minute
Try to get crowd jumpin' out their seats when they feel it
But even if it never made it to the streets I'd be in it
I been workin' instrumentals from 16 to infinite
Tryin' hard to figure out if it's the jeans or the denim
That keeps my heart beatin' for this dream that I'm livin'

[Hook]
When the clock strikes twelve tonight
When they finally dim the lights
There'll still be music in my head
There probably will be til I'm dead

[Verse 2]
It's been almost a decade
And I still have yet to see my mother or my father see a set played
Maybe only when I get paid proper
Will I make a fan outta my mama and my papa
But even if I never saw em standin' front row
I'd be out sun shinin' so they can see their son glow
I won't be done rhymin' until I'm number one
So I shoulda been done rhymin' like 5 months ago
But I'm always getting better
Movin' on to something greater
And if you don't wanna kick it
Sionara see you later
You want beef, have cow about it
You want beats. Get a computer and a power outlet
(Tell em the truth Jacob)
I ain't gotta be the pastor preachin' to the choir
Bout who the motherfucking master
It starts wit a J and has a B for the last one
Everybody sayin' hes an asshole

[Hook]
When the clock strikes twelve tonight
When they finally dim the lights
There'll still be music in my head
There probably will be til I'm dead

[Verse 3]
You can't sign me, I ain't a piece of paper
You can't define me, I'm changing everyday, sir
Chameleon colored caterpillar to butterfly
Feelin' like I'm Duncan Mcloud and I'ma never die
There can be only one king of the jungle son
This is my territory and will be till kingdom come
If you could tell a story and fluently beat on a drum
Paintin' a picture beautifully sing at the top of your lungs
Then we can get it crackin' pastachio style
But I don't know nobody thats really crackin' they lackin' in style
Jackin' they styles from karaoke they piled up
Lookin' at me envious, and knowin' that their style sucks
A pile of bucks says that I could make a better song
Writin' nothin' down with no more fuckin' beat on
Tryin' to make a whole CD that you can leave on
Could never the best, cause I'm already beyond