| There ain’t nobody survivin', there ain’t nobody alive
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| Unless you made out of metal like RoboCop or Johnny 5
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| Evil washed out the hive, Clive Barker has arrived
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| Nosedive into the side of your house with a G-five
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| Gee-whiz Mom, why you tryna make me get along
|
| With all these sucker motherfuckers who make all them shitty songs?
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| I’m a vampire walkin' on the surface of the sun
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| There’s a motherfuckin' nuclear furnace inside my lungs
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| You better do some soul searchin', look how crazy you’ve become
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| Like seein' a nun twerkin' while she’s purchasin' a gun
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| You say you reppin' Brooklyn in your raps but you’re still a herb
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| Who moved into the gentrified section of Williamsburg
|
| I know the type of kid, the type who hid in every fight he did
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| Jumpin' on the mic and frontin' like he lived the life of Big
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| I’m like lightnin' shootin' right in the wig
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| Billed a butcher slicin' a pig right through the ribs
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| I put a spell on you
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| Every word, every line, every rhyme is control of the mind
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Every day, every night, every verse I write by candlelight
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Full moons overhead, words glow on the page that I read
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| In the deepness of the woods, in a circle with a torch wearin' hoods
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| I put a spell on you
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| Who got the mox? |
| Motherfucker just watch
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| I spit megawatts that black out a thousand city blocks
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| Fuck Glocks, got a Springfield armory, accurate as medieval archery
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| That’ll drain the plasma from your arteries
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| You’re part of me, I’m partly retarded, a martyr
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| Taggin' cop cars with a fat marker, nobody harder
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| I’m Megalosaurus armor, I’m quicker than Peter Parker
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| Put crop circles in fields then I’m fuckin' the farmers daughter
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| I travel through vortexical portals made out of water
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| I slaughter the competition with spittin', why would you bother?
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| The author of holy scripture but I’m not the Holy Father
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| Ghostwriter like Shakespeare If you makin' the right offer
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| Them other rappers are softer, get buried with Jimmy Hoffa
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| Get off of me this is awfully obvious y’all are jockin' me
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| Usin' quotes from verses like reverse psychology
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| Rap isn’t gettin' better, y’all just used to poorer quality
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| And I don’t give a fuck if you tell me you never felt me
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| 'Cause you probably just jelly your favorite rapper couldn’t melt me
|
| I probably shot some babies in your baby mama’s belly
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| And her telly, watchin' Belly, wouldn’t beat it 'cause she smelly
|
| No-name rappers who sweat themselves really isn’t healthy
|
| Doesn’t make sense like a paparazzi takin' a selfie
|
| Let it marinade on some ice
|
| I’m Kevin Arnold on the mic narratin' my life
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Every word, every line, every rhyme is control of the mind
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Every day, every night, every verse I write by candlelight
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Full moons overhead, words glow on the page that I read
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| In the deepness of the woods, in a circle with a torch wearin' hoods
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Every word, every line, every rhyme is control of the mind
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Every day, every night, every verse I write by candlelight
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| Full moons overhead, words glow on the page that I read
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| In the deepness of the woods, in a circle with a torch wearin' hoods
|
| I put a spell on you
|
| «Every religious, mystical, and philosophical sect has had exactly the same
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| difficulty from the beginning of time. |
| Where it is the person…
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| who really believes that the esoteric truths of life are some kind of a secret.
|
| . |
| and that it is possible to find the key. |
| Buy it, steal it, beg it, borrow it,
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| through some way to get it… and that by means of this key we can suddenly
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| unlock the shut door of the palace of the King.» |