| Oh no it’s them two shit-talking thin pricks
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| The Sebutones, they’re freakier than wild animals and skin flicks
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| With their platform shoes and they also have gold teeth
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| The battle-axe styles, they calculate a motif
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| The Cadillacs with backwards hats, they can’t be nice
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| In fact I heard that Buck 65 might even be the antichrist
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| And Sixtoo, he practises witchcraft, collects crystals
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| And back in the early 70s was in the Sex Pistols
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| But they kicked him out 'cos he was always bugging and dissing
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| And Sid caught him and that Nancy girl hugging and kissing
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| And holding hands in the rain and doing shows
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| With poison solvent cans at the merchandise counter and everything
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| The DJ runs around telling people that I’m sinister
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| And wishes that Darth Vader was the prime minister
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| And I even heard that one of them can’t wait until the day when the world ends
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| And until then his hobby’s gonna be stealing people’s girlfriends
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| And he said he wasn’t kidding
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| He’s got a dozen styles of rhyming and keeps another dozen hidden
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| They throw fruit and vegetables around so dodge the lemons and hot peppers
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| 'Cos one throws harder than Roger Clemens
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| I think they might be from the future
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| Got a casual collection of styles like Ninja Prada
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| And offer us a choice of season; |
| daytime or evening wear
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| Please listen to the voice of reason |