| Mr. Van Gogh
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| Mr. Van Gogh
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| I know you can’t hear me
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| But I know that you can see me
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| Which means you can paint out my story
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| And while you’re at it, polish my soul please
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| Because there’s black paint all over me
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| My heart black something like church shoes and ovaltine
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| (?) straight edge with it double edge
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| Which means I can take one step
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| And one backwards
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| Blame it on my god complex
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| My dog’s complex
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| They shoot for profits
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| But pray to prophets
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| Gold Jesus piece
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| But last name Mohamad
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| Quran said (?)
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| But thats second place, balling
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| Got a bad bitch because she’s dancing on my conscience
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| The devil’s corpse (?) is in progress
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| In all white you thought we was playing for was Wisconsin
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| 100 violent violets
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| We threw them shots that ain’t really calling
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| In the jungle, so heaven ain’t an option
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| 'Cause animals that hang off trees don’t hang for progress
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| God sent wine
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| How kind of him a nice gesture
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| But the kid’s already one with nature
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| Moon shine while the sun is out
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| And they still say my village is in a fucking drought
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| I took a piss and saw Alex Grey art come out of my dick
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| Holy shit, the drugs kicked in, pyrex vision
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| And I used to wear my fears on my sleeves
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| So my shirts were distressed
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| But now I’m like a kid, I don’t wanna wait for fear
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| I don’t wanna wait for fear
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| I’ma stand my place
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| Independent, bitch, I take myself on a date
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| And I even ordered the fucking cake
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| And the only way you can take me is to shoot me in my face
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| You can’t buy something this great
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| You cannot purchase my fate
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| Ever since I wore glasses
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| Ever since I met Clarence
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| Ever since I started rapping and dreaming 'bout Paris
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| Ever since then I started seeing through the Matrix
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| I see the world for what it really is
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| A bunch of us tryna get rich
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| Blood keeps rushing out
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| So I can feel you
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| (I can feel you)
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| Money making reverend
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| Money don’t make intelligence
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| All running after a crown that don’t mean shit
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| That don’t make sense, but makes cents
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| Heaven sent hell bound
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| So it’s only right I fuck her with Pradas on
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| On a cherub Persian rug
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| It’s juxtaposed when we fuck
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| I am overpriced grapes
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| I am unsprayed non-GMO
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| I am full paid telephone, never prepaid Metro
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| I am shipped right to your door
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| I am expensive prostitute pussy better than your whores
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| Speak up against me, but if you do
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| Make sure to use the highest quality microphone
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| I am the thing you want when you watch the Superbowl commercial with your girl
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| And it makes you feel inferior to the rest of the world and so are you
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| What’s the worth of a human being? |
| I am Zeus
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| I am one with God, and so are we
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| And I don’t mean that to sound cheesy
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| But homie, I’m fucking tired of being programmed to feel weak
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| Life is a maze and I see that you’re lost
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| She used to smoke weed from glass dicks to now taking pipe but with other
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| harder drugs
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| Nose stuffed with white like Mike’s jersey in game six, yikes
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| Need guidance, put a piece of your mind in this bucket and watch it go to a
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| cause
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| To annotate this verse and see what the fuck it’s about |