| In the land of the lost, we lay down law
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| Chopping off your head to take your face on tour
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| Lacerate your lips, then we shave off more
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| Electrocute your body through the encore
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| When the cops come and try to raid the jams
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| I change my physical form to that of a ram
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| Alakazam, I’m half of a man
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| The other part of me operates robotically
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| Psychology is the dominant factor
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| Believe in the holograms and step in the backdoor
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| Out for A.M., more mayhem
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| Five fatal steps to death unless we trace them
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| Five: hesitate to get live
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| Your career’s postmortem, now you can’t survive
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| Four: perpetuate the folklore
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| Live a lie, can’t identify yourself no more
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| Three: call yourself an MC
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| Practice minimally and start fucking with me
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| Or the E, sorcery to the ultimate degree
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| C-W-O fall in love with the dough
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| 'Til your spiritual essence is something you don’t know about
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| Bag 'em up, throw 'em out via the frontdoor
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| (Six million ways to die) There’s one more
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| Live healthily thinking you could extend that
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| As long as you remember that life is a deathtrap
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| Oops, didn’t mean to spill the beans
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| And kill your dreams, push you through the guillotine
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| We kill your time, show me official design
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| Sit in a shrine, float in a robe with sunshine
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| Adorn by the dorn we reflect what’s going on
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| We store water images and mirrors in our palms
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| Half the time they don’t rhyme, half the time they all lying
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| Half the time they all mine, half the time they all yours
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| Half the time we on tour
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| Half the time they don’t rhyme, half the time they all lying
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| Half the time they all mine, half the time they all yours
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| Half the time we on tour |