I've been a fine boy for too long
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But I'm tired, I can't keep quiet anymore
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What parts I hear are spare parts
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I think we need to change something
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That I see artists is burning her sadly
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When the calculations don't work out
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You would be up there like Jesus but you don't have money for nails
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Want to sell albums? |
You will be disappointed
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Sell posters with you, you'll be poor
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That's why rappers call me Blessed
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But I do it just to get you drunk
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To make a profit
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I want to fight, not whine
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Hoping for those who pass by in turn
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They're more catering, or Mother Teresa
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Or a little more aberration to get the song out
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And they don't bother us, but they can't tell us
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As we shit on them, you say it's raining on Mars and Snickers
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So treat me properly
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That I'm sick
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I have pussies dancing for me
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How serious
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But I deserve it because I shot hard
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So to slaves, at work, it's my kingdom
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Eat your dick!
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I've been a fine boy for too long
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But I'm tired, I can't keep quiet anymore
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What parts I hear are spare parts
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Be careful what you wear on your trouser leg
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Am I delirious, socheres?
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Now you know me well
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When I see myself on the street, the puppies jump on me
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Some say she's famous, though I don't really have her
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Others say it's from the coat, they can look like Tarzan
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These are still jumping on the ceiling
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I have neither brand nor trance
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For good money, he beat them in Bamboo and Van Damme
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Your brigade sucks, I didn't know what to do
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He hung between two chairs, like Mircea Badea
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I've never halted you, sausage baths with sauce
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Don't be silly, I'm patronizing you Rapid
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Call me George Copos
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Balls as big as two coconuts
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How bongos
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I speak freely, I release you
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You are not at Villa Lobos
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Bladder problems
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I've been pissing on everything for 10 years
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It's not a birthday, I'm pissing on the cake
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Hip-hop-u-i dead
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I enter the stage with a shovel in my hand to dig it up
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I resurrect him, and I put you in his place
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The blowjob!
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I've been a fine boy for too long
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But I'm tired, I can't keep quiet anymore
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What parts I hear are spare parts
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Give me the little one to put in
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They die like a boy and start a pope like Benedict
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My launch was John F. Kennedy
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Come to me, N&D
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Come on, don't be lazy
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That I fit in so well
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Not out of pleasure, out of laziness
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Self-proclaimed craftsmen
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Which you give with the empty room
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I dedicate the only muscle that grows without a gym
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It must hurt
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CTC runs on tracks like train '
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I'm going to the train station, skins in front of me
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Exfoliate the skin
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That you're just pretending to like me and your side
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But you're a hater, I read you as fast as Freedom
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I'm done, enough children dead in rap
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That's a paw
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I've had enough
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And I put my dick in them for work |