| Death clock Tick
|
| Tock smokin like a cigarette
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| Every minute, every hour,
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| every day
|
| You mind goes flip flop
|
| Nothing but a silhouette
|
| Ain’t it funny how time slips away?
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| (Rap by THE PRIME ARTIST Russell Jordan)
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| It’s about that time
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| to stop the clock
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| If you’re ready to roll
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| Let’s rock the block
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| Time moved on slowly
|
| in my mind in the morning
|
| In the afternoon my body
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| shuts down
|
| Give me wine, women and song
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| And I’ll party all night long
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| Let it all blow to the
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| muthafucking dawn.
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| Been down so goddam long
|
| It looks like up to me
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| Here’s some words of advice
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| from a man who’s had little
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| advice all his life,
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| If you wanna go out on Saturday
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| night and listen to the
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| music and the bright lights
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| There’s one or two things
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| you should do…
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| First get your head on
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| straight, get it buttoned
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| up the back. |
| Zip up your
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| pants and start walking on
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| downtown, and when you get
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| downtown say hello to the
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| nicest looking girl you see
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| and say «hey baby, have you
|
| ever been to the Galapagos?
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| You know they’ve got lizards
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| there that ain’t got no eyes»
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| and if she says «well that
|
| comes to me as no surprise»
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| you say «hey, why don’t we
|
| sh-shuffle on down to say
|
| listen to old LSD, playing
|
| that drum and bass for just
|
| you and me» I’m sure her eyes’ll
|
| just light up and she’ll
|
| say «let's go over a partay» |