| Guess who’s back?
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| Up in the mix
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| With my long brown hair
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| And my big wide lips
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| The year was grey, 1991
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| When Tommy got produced by some chemical waste and cum
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| Scientific project, escaped from Kazakhstan
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| I am married to those beats, wheres my number one fan
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| Half human, half machine, not a real fucking human being
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| Can’t cry, only hope. |
| Can’t smile, so I smoke
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| Without a wolfpack, a loner, my mood getting colder
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| I’m only 21 but my mind is older
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| Gonna live large, die young, most insane
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| This flow hit hard like Kurt Cobain
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| Guess who’s back?
|
| Up in the mix
|
| With my long brown hair
|
| And my big wide lips
|
| Once upon a time not long ago
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| Came out white dynamite
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| You never heard of me before
|
| I don’t live by the gun
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| I live by the ton
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| Smoke all that shit flush it down with the rum
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| As I sit in my dark room
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| Make music like I’m dracula
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| Out of fresh blood, going fucking smackula
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| I may be young but I’m definitely ready
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| These blue balls full of lyrics
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| I’m getting kind of heavy
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| So I outburst, a fat dose as I converse
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| Metaphor after metaphor, soon I talk in reverse
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| As I come back straight with a combat
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| Paint pictures with my words, so they call me abstract
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| Guess who’s back?
|
| Up in the mix
|
| With my long brown hair
|
| And my big wide lips
|
| Tommy, Tommy… |