| My spirit animal comes with a pretzel bun
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| Troll of the treadmill
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| Record on the Kessel Run (allegedly)
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| Edgy from elevenses to Megabucks
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| Techies with the treble down
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| This is how we level up
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| Dead meat, time travel, pressure, and disease
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| As ushered out of two fingers pecking at the keys
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| The coping mechanism in his LMNOP’s
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| Went from healthy to unhealthy to a hell he never leaves
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| Cineplex Jesus, curse at the curly fries
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| Mulling over Chuck D telling me, «Diversify»
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| I’m at the Supercuts soupin' up the wardrobe
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| Forecast looking like Ganesh on four phones
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| «Hello, hello, hello, hello»
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| Base camp, space camp
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| Bass in your face fuck, brace for the rain dance
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| Back in the back of the classroom
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| After a magical nap in a vacuum
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| Act natural, whatever that means for you
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| Whatever that means for you
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| Whatever that means for you
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| (Superfresh)
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| Before climbing douchebag mountain, I was skate or die
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| Started eating kale and came to terms with my lazy eye
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| Putting on the yoga lady, cutting off The Cable Guy
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| Whistle while you’re waiting for your condition to stabilize
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| AV cables everywhere, every piece of vinyl scratched
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| Mentholated Tiger Balm, Aleve with the arthritis cap
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| Irons and the niacin, iron Quiet Riot mask
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| Unabashed privacy expanding into simulcast
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| 40 winks, never the same adventure
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| Refreshing, or the single longest exorcism ever
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| In the end, you gotta wonder if it’s even worth the effort
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| No stairways into Heaven, you can step into the Escher
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| Some people have mistaken my allegiance for a weakness
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| It fucked me up for eons, I wished I was a theist
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| The type to fake his death then forget he faked his death
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| Show up on TV, in the crowd at the AVNs, like…
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| (Hey peace Aesop uh It’s Chuck D
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| Yo man, you keep doin' what you’re doin' man
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| Keep rhymin' through those walls, alright?)
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| Sometimes I feel my heart putrefying inside my body
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| From diary of dark to piety in the Ponzi
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| On my better days they mingle and walk off into the poppy
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| On my worst, the work is overshadowed by the monte
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| Had to buy some clothes that fit me
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| And pretend I like agave
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| With a promise to his congress not to compromise the motley in him
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| Maybe I should kinda sorta move to Mars
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| I’m feeling kinda done, too many moving parts
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| The piss-poor vision is 40 percent floaters
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| The kitchen is a chorus of glorious leftovers
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| The friends you confessed all the dark shit to
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| Had weaponized the information before we could send roses
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| And they want a little pearl on how he got to where he at
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| I can’t remember where I am, I feel it’s probably a trap
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| Balk with the lawless, cough in his notes
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| Walk on even when the walls hug his coat
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| Act natural, whatever that means for you
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| Whatever that means for you
|
| Whatever that means for you
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| (Superfresh) |