| Uh huh… I know
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| Well it’s Mr. Obituary, put beats in a cemetery
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| I rip a beat to pieces, like sheets in a dictionary
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| The teachers try tried to teach me but I was sleepin' in every class
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| I never passed, it didn’t seem necessary
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| I’m super psychedelic
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| I’m smokin' weed with the fairies
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| And if drugs are bad, throw away every CD you carry
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| Cause drugs have inspired every musical visionary
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| And this ain’t even the album
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| So the thought alone should be scary
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| I do this for the geeks who feel they need to compare me
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| I swear I’ll push this button, give me a reason or dare me
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| And everything gets blown and everybody gets buried
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| And there you have it, I shot the track like Berry
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| Lady (oh yeah)
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| Oh, baby (oh yeah)
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| Oh, baby (oh yeah)
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| Oh, baby (oh yeah)
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| My, my baby (oh yeah)
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| Oh, baby (oh yeah)
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| My sweet baby (oh yeah)
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| You’re the one
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| I know, I know, I know, haha
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| They tryin' figure out, what’s my business incentive
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| I’m simply tryin' speak to who or whatever will listen
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| And reach out to the kids who the doctor prescribed with Ritalin
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| So this for all of my aliens and all the Indigo Children
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| And anyone who said I would never see this position
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| Allow me to drop my pants and turn around for you to kiss it
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| Huh
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| But that was the motivation I needed for me to get it
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| And this has been a Bobby Ray Power Point presentition
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| I mean… presentation…
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| Aww, whatever you don’t care |