| Release
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| Release
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| Release
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| Prevalent melanin elephant bailin'
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| And carrying sedatives that’ll give average lettermen callouses
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| Wrecking with savageness, catalyst
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| Battling rappers’ll stagger right after the dagger is left in it
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| Cherish this caliber (Release) Atticus
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| Shatter your algebra with calculus (give it up)
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| Damage your patterns I’m pounding you so fabulous (give it up)
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| Enough is enough is enough and I’m busting up outta this shell
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| An eruption that ruptures your structure to fuck with you (Release)
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| Up in ya gut, you a costumer
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| Huffing and puffing, discussing absolutely nothing, disgusting me
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| Plus infinity’s up in me rushing your country percussion
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| No wonder you’re struck in the boundaries
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| Wake up if you’re lunging, I’m something, you’re nothing (Release)
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| Now come see me grunting
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| I’m hunting for what emcees want
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| And I’m stomping my foot through your armies
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| They couldn’t have stopped me with shotties
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| Oddity, why did he, why do these entire societies inside of societies
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| And survivors still remain alive (Release) emcees
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| Thriving to flow, opting to go
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| Five hundred and fifty-five syllables to go
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| Split em' with the subliminal intentional digital pro
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| Unlimited flows unriveted, inhibited, visited
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| Now you can’t get rid of it like (Release) what is this
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| This magnificent, intimate, inner wit, in a minute finna be antonyms
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| In it with a gig, big fat heads like eggs Benedict
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| Pigs lick shit, rip with words and abysmal energy
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| It’s time I (destroy the beast, release)
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| Inner breathlessness, outer restlessness
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| By the time I caught up to freedom I was out of breath
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| Grandma asked me what I’m running for
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| I guess I’m out for the same thing the sun is sunning for
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| What mothers birth their youngens for
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| And some say Jesus coming for
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| For all I know the earth is spinning slow
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| Suns at half mast cause masses ain’t aglow
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| On bended knee, prostrate before an altered tree
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| I’ve made the forest suit me
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| Tables and chairs
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| Papers and prayers
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| Matter versus spirit
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| A metal ladder
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| A wooden cross
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| A plastic bottle of water
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| A mandala encased in glass
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| A spirit encased in flesh
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| Sound from shaped hollows
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| The thickest of mucus released from heightened passion
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| A man that cries in his sleep
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| A truth that has gone out of fashion
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| A mode of expression
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| A paint splattered wall
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| A carton of cigarettes
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| A bouquet of corpses
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| A dying forest
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| A nurtured garden
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| A privatized prison
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| A candle with a broken wick
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| A puddle that reflects the sun
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| A piece of paper with my name on it
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| I’m surrounded
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| I surrender
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| All
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| All that I am I have been
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| All I have been has been a long time coming
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| I am becoming all that I am
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| The spittle that surrounds the mouth-piece of the flute
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| Unheard, yet felt
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| A gathered wetness
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| A quiet moisture
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| Sound trapped in a bubble
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| Released into wind
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| Wind fellows and land merchants
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| We are history’s detergent
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| Water soluble, light particles, articles of cleansing breath
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| Articles amending death
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| These words are not tools of communication
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| They are shards of metal
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| Dropped from eight story windows
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| They are waterfalls and gas leaks
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| Aged thoughts rolled in tobacco leaf
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| The tools of a trade
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| Barter’s bard, barb of barters
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| Catch phrases and misunderstandings
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| But they are not what I feel when I am alone
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| Surrounded by everything and nothing
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| And there isn’t a word or phrase to be caught
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| A verse to be recited
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| A mantra to fill my being in those moments
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| I am blankness, the contained center of an «O»
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| The pyramidic containment of an «A»
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| I stand in the middle of all that I have learned
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| All that I have memorized
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| All that I’ve known by heart
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| Unable to reach any of it
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| There is no sadness
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| There is no bliss
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| It is a forgotten memory
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| A memorable escape route that only is found by not looking
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| There, in the spine of the dictionary the words are worthless
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| They are a mere weight pressing against my thoughtlessness
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| But then, who else can speak of thoughtlessness with such confidence
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| Who else has learned to sling these ancient ideas
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| Like dead rats held by their tails
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| So as not to infect this newly oiled skin
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| I can think of nothing heavier than an airplane |
| I can think of no greater conglomerate of steel and metal
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| I can think of nothing less likely to fly
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| There are no wings more weighted
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| I too have felt a heaviness
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| The stare of man guessing at my being
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| Yes I am homeless
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| A homeless man making offerings to the after-future
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| Sculpting rubber tree forests out of worn tires and shoe soles
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| A nation unified in exhale
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| A cloud of smoke
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| A native pipe ceremony
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| All the gathered cigarette butts piled in heaps
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| Snow covered mountains
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| Lipsticks smeared and shriveled
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| Offerings to an afterworld
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| Tattoo guns and plastic wrappers
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| Broken zippers and dead eyed dolls
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| It’s all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
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| I have seeded a forest of myself
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| Little books from tall trees
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| It matters not what this paper be made of
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| Give me notebooks made of human flesh
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| Dried on steel hooks and nooses
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| Make uses of use, uses of us
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| It’s all overwhelming me, oak and elming me
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| I have seeded a forest of myself
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| Little books from tall trees
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| On bended knee
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| Prostrate before an altered tree
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| I’ve made the forest suit me
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| Tables and chairs
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| Papers and prayers
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| Matter vs. spirit. |
| Through meditation
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| I program my heart to beat breakbeats and hum basslines on exhalation
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| (Release)
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| (Release)
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| (Release)
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| The heaven-sent benevolent medicine man reverend
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| Peddling deliverance that resemble amphetamines to
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| The residents in the meadow of pestilence
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| Who developed a chemical dependence on pessimism, now
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| Is he is, or is he ain’t
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| The most distinctive speaker seeping through your sleepy speakers
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| Yes he is, oh, yes indeed
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| So distinguished, so close some people think he’s half
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| Ain’t no secret, people, trust me it’s mostly hustling
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| That moves me upstream but just focus on the unseen
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| Boasting and fussing, they both so unproductive
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| Suppose it go in my blood stream, Let me pose this question
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| Ask anybody, that’s anybody
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| They’ll tell you that the antibody to the petty
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| Potty mouth gossiping is
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| Success at something, to be the best at something
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| And not to stress the dumb shit, 'cause you ain’t missing nothing
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| You got to
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| Motivate, accelerate, never wait, know your weight, throw away hate
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| Grow and make weight of your older days
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| Elevate, concentrate, get your focus straight, aim, orchestrate fate
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| Just motivate, accelerate, never wait, show the way, no escape
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| Take hold and shift shape, live a longer day
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| Elevate, concentrate, get your focus straight, aim, orchestrate fate
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| Astrologists, colleges follow this through the metropolis
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| The dominant brown bomber, I’m in it, being prominent
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| Walking it mean, talking it, clean the scene, stalking it
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| Volcanic, got ya’ll panicking, false canyon
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| And always all day outlandish bandits
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| Be slandering what we mastering cause they can’t catch us
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| They all pray for our downfall, maybe one day, sike!
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| You never get no balance if you’re crooked so play right, snake
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| I’m mongoosin' on you, stormtroopin' through your form
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| bar none oncoming, onslaught
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| On one chopping you, I’ll tomahawk, trauma hawk
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| Long running champ and rocking shit 'till I’m gone
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| You’re a Tom Thumb and I’m King Kong Bundy strong
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| Thunder all summer long, keep on coming dawn
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| Dusk, night, morning I’ll bust tight poems
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| Raw, just mic zoning ya’ll with the right mode of motivation
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| Motivate, accelerate, never wait, know your weight, throw away hate
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| Grow and make weight of your older days
|
| Elevate, concentrate, get your focus straight, aim, orchestrate faith
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| Just motivate, accelerate, never wait, show the way, no escape
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| Take hold and shift shape, live a longer day
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| Elevate, concentrate, get your focus straight, aim, orchestrate faith |