| Bacardí Límon, a zone, I’m gone
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| I’m diving in the doja at night, my light, my life
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| I’m trapped inside illusion, in flight
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| I’m lost, I’m found, my sound was designed by dusk
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| Clogging emotions and I’m bleeding, I’m lusk
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| Out the hour glass, magic, my tragic is often alternate
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| What’s the motive? |
| To ride in automotives
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| Explosives will blast every time we coast this
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| Too much roaches in the ashtray, too high
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| Infatuated, I never graduated
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| But I’m happy that you made it
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| Cause I’m always getting faded, and my ninjas they be dated
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| Cause they ain’t gettn' no fetti but they esso is heavy
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| And they aim is always ready
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| What’s the meaning of thought? |
| From an escort
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| Caught when you launch, she just thought and open closed doors
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| Off shore accounts count, pen taught to an hourglass temptress
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| Take ahead and stone, who think they in a storm
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| Can’t touch it, can’t taste it, can’t see it
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| But about six billion junkies be believin'
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| They running out of time, they want more time
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| They need more time
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| Can’t touch it, can’t taste it, can’t see it
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| But about six billion junkies be believin'
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| They running out of time, they want more time
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| They need more time
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| My mind can’t see it, my body can’t define it
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| But when I hear the hunger of the younger
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| I’m reminded, I’m feeling like I’m blinded
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| I don’t follow awareness
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| And all of the moves that I make seems to be careless
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| Can, Can I move my thoughts around?
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| Can I move my life around? |
| Will time make me drown?
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| Will I find another way? |
| Can I get a definition?
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| Can I get a new position? |
| Will I find a new approach?
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| Will it take the pain away?
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| Have a cilantro slice
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| Get your splice to Sinatra
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| Screaming that the city is mine
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| Often ten tin men can catch, a sky walk off a Spielberg
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| Soon to spill it back, in a glass
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| Can’t chastise no one, unless your rooks and queens in a line
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| Checkmate maybe, maybe we on a love boat
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| We loving Timber Wolves, maybe it’s the Knicks off the shoulder
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| Love potion 99, slow down the timeline
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| Can’t touch it, can’t taste it, can’t see it
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| But about six billion junkies be believin'
|
| They running out of time, they want more time
|
| They need more time
|
| Can’t touch it, can’t taste it, can’t see it
|
| But about six billion junkies be believin'
|
| They running out of time, they want more time
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| They need more time
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| How can you rock when you constantly on the clock?
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| How do you determine what’s real and what’s not?
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| You either in the past like the words of Martin Luther
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| Or all up in the future like Michael J. Fox
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| I stay in the now, cause that’s where all the power be
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| No minutes, no seconds, even hours freeze
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| Without the help of Sour D
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| I easily overcome all my cowardly, thoughts
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| That once held a ninja back
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| Now I’m karate kicking, until the end of rap
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| At least until the end of me, but how you in infinity
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| Can’t touch it, can’t taste it, can’t see it
|
| But about six billion junkies be believin'
|
| They running out of time, they want more time
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| They need more time |