| Fresh from a bible belt town
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| That’s what she’s givin' up
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| Not really livin', just flesh comin' off a greyhound
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| Right at a blink of an eye he provides her with charm
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| Hides that he is a shark
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| Suggests a few apartments, never hints to the home
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| That’s what he wanna do
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| She just wanna new zip code for an old dream
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| Lost in an appetite now the big apple might
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| Find her habit of a queen
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| Feel the negro that’s filled with an equal match road
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| Destination unknown
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| She’s Little Bow Peep
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| And her and her whole sheep gonna have their wool unsewn
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| Now the wolf give a push
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| Now watch her jump in with two feet
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| Blue heat don’t know how to swim through the limbs
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| Everyone huggin' her, tuggin' her
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| Ride on the merry-go-round of four drinks and two white lines
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| Go fast with the fast life so she needs more
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| One fun fix, now a daily chore
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| Provide the score, written and produced so perverse
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| He’s a pro well versed
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| Told her that the purse that she want
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| With the shoes that she love and the rent that she need paid
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| Can be earned with speed in a day
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| Escort on the high class side
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| Champagne glass rides
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| White snow waterfalls, oh how time flies
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| When you’re flyin', crash and burn
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| She learned that her soul was dyin'
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| That’s worth savin'
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| She’s cravin' that bible belt town
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| So she crawls back on the Greyhound
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| Next stop, NYC
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| Take your seats please
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| I know exactly where you’re goin', I can see it on your face
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| I know how to get there
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| And I give you my word that I get you there safe
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| I don’t need to check your baggage
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| I don’t need to know your name
|
| All I need to know is
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| By the time you arrive, you’ll forever be changed
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| Fresh new Gucci belt, bound
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| Fast to the city scape
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| Dash to deliver fate
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| Stashed in this duffel bag, proud
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| It’s no scaredy cat
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| Life was always spared in thy name
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| That the gamblers fold
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| No chips if the scramble got cold
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| But them warm cushions and them soft bus seats
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| Push that second thought along
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| Beneath the roof of a Super 8, he sleeps till it’s night time
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| Then connects in the streets like a pipe line
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| In dark shades he supplies dark brigades
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| Of lost souls with his chemical morsels
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| He’s no lab tech
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| He was born into a legacy stretched from Aztecs and beyond
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| Assets he was drawn to
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| Had him spreadin' the wool over his mother’s eye
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| He’s the black sheep
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| His pops career driven, he’s the backseat
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| The man on the wheel that cruises on sunrise
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| That the man brought eyes to his pay per view
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| Kind of paper make a fool shoot his statement through
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| And take the label too
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| Till he’s can’t
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| Till a pancake pocket change the landscape
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| Take a short visit home in the town
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| It’s time to re-up, it’s back on the Greyhound
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| Next stop, NYC
|
| Take your seats please
|
| I know exactly where you’re goin', I can see it on your face
|
| I know how to get there
|
| And I give you my word that I get you there safe
|
| I don’t need to check your baggage
|
| I don’t need to know your name
|
| All I need to know is
|
| By the time you arrive, you’ll forever be changed
|
| By the time you arrive, you’ll forever be changed
|
| By the time you arrive, you’ll forever be changed
|
| Forever be changed, forever be changed
|
| So watch where you’re goin'
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| And this food you’re chosin'
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| I don’t need to check your baggage
|
| I don’t need to know your name
|
| All I need to know is
|
| By the time you arrive you’ll forever be changed
|
| Forever be changed, be changed
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| You’ll forever be changed |