| It’s as if the fore fathers
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| Gonna trade it for a piece
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| They can lick the wound slow
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| Like they’re from the northeast
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| They resist I’m going easy
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| Bankin on the hearsay
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| But they all know the man with the co-pay
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| Mixed up in the mid, they get the high to low rap
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| Its a tight rope, til the rope goes slack
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| It’ll blow your mind, but it don’t get you around,
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| I ain’t messin' around.
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| I ain’t messin' around.
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| So I got my gold parachute
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| Turn one more left turn
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| With my chloroform and a monet
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| 'fore we can take a long ride down the narrow drive
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| And keep ya head down, yeah
|
| They come and jump in
|
| Now may I ask to who you reach all the money so I
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| Don’t sell the van
|
| Can’t find my,
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| Can’t find my cat’s got nine times
|
| So let the poochie on the record and ya got 'em on the messin around
|
| Can we do a re-vote
|
| Backed by hard-earned job
|
| It’s hard to get to things of my own
|
| As if I don’t think, think, thinkin up and sippin on the world
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| He was lookin from the top look out
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| Say preach,
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| Buy them treats, and this guy he prayed
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| Father told them pick them on the fallen tree
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| Father picked them off the top
|
| And so we’re getting caught up in the mountain,
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| Still no pay check.
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| To be found
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| I ain’t messin' around
|
| Are ya sorted?
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| Are ya sound?
|
| Are ya sound?
|
| Are ya sound?
|
| Are ya sorted? |