| Ladies and gentlemen, we’d like to welcome you inside the mind
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| There’ll be no bell for lunch without a popper
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| And back then I was never embarrassed even with my dick out like chopper
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| I get so lonely I brawl with the music
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| I’m so underground, you silly bitch, I crawl through the sewage
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| Commercial shit, it’s just all a nuisance
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| And Esoteric to aid he calls on the purest
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| To emerge from the gutter and do away with one dimensional
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| MC’s who have to turn to their mother in a battle situation
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| Ring the bell when the cattle reach my station
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| I love riding on donkeys with headphones on
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| I see visions when I walk
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| I know a whole lot of fucking pigeons that can talk
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| They remind me that the hunger’s real
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| And if you’re gonna come at all you best come with skill
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
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| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
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| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
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| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
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| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| You see, Lucifer couldn’t catch me, he’s playing soft
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| I play cards with Merlin, I blow smoke with Gandalf
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| Blinky bill and I rob banks and shape shift
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| And the only icy shit I got is my dick in the cake mix
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| I’ll take this to a land of snakes with red bellies
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| Secret handshakes with Ned Kelly
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| I came to prove, that we can too
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| When your whole style reminds me of an ad for cheap shampoo
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| That’s right, life’s a puzzle and I’m making it fit
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| And don’t bother me on the dunny, son, I’m taking a shit
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| But when I’m off, and no doubt about it, I’m partly mental
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| Meet me in the tool shed with all your sharpened pencils
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| Envision the calligraphy that hacks the gift
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| And slap on your thinking caps to catch my drift
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| Porn king ding fish burn makes the world move
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| Poetical principal of rhyme the girls do
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| So, come on, lads, please, pass the billy
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| We got hip hop, at ease, arse and titty
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| And I’m stumbling (shit) numb of a case
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| I got a dick in my pants who thinks he’s running the place
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| Walking like a wooden puppet this track goes out
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| To anybody talking like I couldn’t cut it
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| A little faith, trust me, goes a long way
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| That’s why my magical wand waves so that the song stays in
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| Timeless like I’m on stage rhyming
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| Cause in the sky rhythm and rhyme living the live
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| And the moral of the story is, I juggle just to manage
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| I’m a ghost for now, but I’m subtle when I vanish
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
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| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
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| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
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| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
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| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| We’re just kicking it so beautifully and usually we just chill out
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| Next to broads that foolishly with these carps of jewelry
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| I found these balds of nudity and it’s all just new to me
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| Such an odd community (hey yo it’s probably puberty)
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| Ey yo we’ve got to grow the fuck down
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| We still in adolescence
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| To come to the clearing in the woods
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| Lit by the incandescent moon
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| Yeah I see you smirk and say not likely
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| Original vocab just don’t compute
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| Like we were pikies
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| (So I stand there)
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| And all I hear is
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| «Geez, you’re a pair of slopes»
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| Weaze, no caramel so please don’t parallel (that's right)
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| Us to candy rappers cuz they end up in the waste basket
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| When their style spit there ain’t no flavour, no
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| It’s that taste lasting
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| Oompa Loompa, doopity doo
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| Man I’m that Everlasting Gobstopper that blew the city fuse
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| So don’t think you’re gonna get away
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| You little rascal
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| Cause we got the country locked down like we’re from Nashville
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
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| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
|
| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy |
| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
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| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
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| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
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| Some outskirt hillbillies just chilling on some dirt bikes
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| Rounded up these Varmints taking them back to the turnpike
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| When the herb lights, we’ll pass it, when we spy ‘em from the ditch
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| We show 'em they got a wardrobe and a lion and a witch
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| You wanna pitch your tent right here at our camp site
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| (There's a crack in the back of the closet)
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| Oh oh, I’ll get that lamp lite
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| the wood hatchet these splinters kill
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| Then I feel a winter, chill and I’m in a timber mill
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| Through the prairie, I storm through the grass and night thicket
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| Past the bushes, the brambles, the billygoats and white pickets
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| And I’m here
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| I crush the petals with my sandals
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| I’m walking through the woods
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| With little Gretel and Hanz
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| Look west on the hills
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| Up here i hear a moan, bellow
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| From an old fellow at a park
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| With a couple of stones yellow
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| And he was more bubbly than a geiser
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| That Old Faithful freestyler
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| Was more (?) kaizer
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| We jumped on a snow plow
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| But like a magic trick he made a dragon puff up
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| With a gadget fit for bagging up all the adjectives
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| I ask you this
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| Yo, in all sinsavity
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| Does it even occur to you
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| Half our shit is all a pavity
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| All those prissy little nitwits
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| Just trying to make their shit flip
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| When they spit fits of mindless crap
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| I mean, I guess we are some misfits
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| And you might call me a cynic
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| But I just don’t mimic
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| At the hands of today
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| We still make you bounce without the gimmick
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| Like we’re pumping this club
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| And we’ll up and make it so fresh
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| In the southern we’re coming with something different from the rest
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| And by the time I get to the club man
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| I’ll be hurting
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| I get there, there’s one guy there
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| Some dude named Tyler Durden, man
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| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
|
| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
|
| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
|
| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal
|
| It’s like B to the E to the I, it’s just so creepy
|
| Take a stroll through the woods and believe me
|
| We’re doing this of embers, no kindles
|
| And the pioneers of small crease, they see a smoke signal |