| Militant-minded, shining diamonds with my heart on the ropes
|
| Take the edge. |
| When I rewind, I’m climbing the slopes
|
| Bring it closer to the essence, I’m breathing with God’s blessings
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| Moving forward, but thinking, but sinking into depression
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| Pulling my own weight, I struggle with opposition
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| I’m wrestling down angels and strangle the competition
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| Searching deep in my heart—I'm looking for definition
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| In simple terms, I yearn to find my life’s mission
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| Listening to the inner, this sinner will find answers
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| Hoping that I remember that Hell is like a cancer
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| Blast as a drum kick hits into oblivion
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| Flash as the sky splits, slip into meridian
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| Capture the rapture, fall into disaster
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| Ambient sound surround and press the master
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| Soundtrack of living in stores if Lord willin'
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| The last day’s bumps so nice in car systems
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| Redemption
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| My system hydraulic, we frolic
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| Young man he stands, he brands alcoholic
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| Smash through the glass, he shatter against love
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| Slip away from the close-up pain—it's such a drug
|
| Run away from innocence, a child of the shadows
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| Unravel the mystery, the reason of the shackles
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| No pot to piss in with nobody to listen
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| Went Godbody, Five Percent to the Christian
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| Crusades are inner, reborn a dope nigga
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| A crease in his pants, he stance, remain bigger
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| Looking for a peace of mind but never found it
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| Looking for a peace of mind but never found it, shot
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| And there was I, standing here, wondering why
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| A blue rose never grows to a velvet sky
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| Why the Sun gotta go for the Moon to rise
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| And when we born, why the first thing we do is cry
|
| Possessed is probably a good word. |
| Uh, what I’m possessed by at the time,
|
| I don’t really know. |
| But I seemed to lose a little bit of… I think I’ve lost
|
| my brains
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| Crying, like breathing air, but still dying
|
| Flying with broken wings, lying—nah, nigga, I’m in
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| No position for that. |
| Shit is critical actually
|
| Survivalist tactics got me on point
|
| Thinking, «Put the weed out. |
| Hold your head high
|
| History’s a lie,» broadcasting it live
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| Through your cyberspace. |
| I might walk with fate
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| Perhaps lose the next day, can’t predict the future
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| You wanna be a star, crack a smile so they can shoot ya
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| Rhymin' in limelight—to me shit is weak
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| I’m just another slave riding up shit’s creek |