| I used to have
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| Peace, serenity, teaching divinity
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| Break bread, sipping the blood, eating with enemies
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| Blind, pearl on my mind thinking we finna be
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| This, that, and the third
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| Boy did I learn, tables turn
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| Billy Holiday burned down to play when my nerves drowned my focus away
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| Swerving in the locomotive
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| Far from my hopes and motives
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| Back to boastin' at shows to get a standin' o
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| From all the fans I know on some of that
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| Sapphire rapid fire soul stuff I used to hit 'em off with
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| But now I’m some ol' «pay the toll» for the way I played the role
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| Cautious when I lace a flow cause
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| Po’s think I’m painting codes
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| Patience grown thin, home sick and haven’t been home since
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| Fuck a rapper
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| I’m an actor in a film called
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| Leave me the fuck alone til' I find a real job
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| Busting chrome grills off at these soft-hearted breakbeats
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| Bouncin' with 808's and gray ink
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| Blue heart, red skies
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| True art died in the heart of my mind
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| Kept trying to fulfill this
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| Blank script with realness
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| Even if it kills this
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| Poet inside
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| Used to speak
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| Sweet with sympathy
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| Tease to mimic me
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| Sunshine every line you ever sent to me
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| Heaven sent, heavenly scent that later crippled me, shit
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| Simple men don’t learn, where was your empathy
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| Couldn’t see the fork in the road
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| Kept straight forward
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| Straight towards a humble abode we both hate more
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| Now that I fumbled and folded that open letter said
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| Dead men walkin' don’t dream
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| You taped yours
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| And you told me I could rent it
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| Thought it was invented for my viewing pleasure
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| Human error
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| The apprentice turned teacher, preacher turned God
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| Couldn’t reach ya, just a façade, the main feature
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| Modified for blogs, podcast the past
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| Hi-definition, she laughed
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| Pass the message
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| Now I’m guessin' that the jokes on me cause I’m the only one threatened
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| The wretched by the windows sketchin'
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| Pencil mural of the method
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| Don’t sweat it
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| Techniques turnin', burnin' incense
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| Listening to Billy burn my intent
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| Definitive days that turn my nights to fiction
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| Friction-less, just a pen tryna pimp this stress
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| Cause I couldn’t keep a lid on my life
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| Naïve is the dry leaves on the ground
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| Lookin' past the tree to the blue sky askin' «Why me?» |