| I feel that most of you soldiers are flimsy
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| How the hell did you get over as an emcee?
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| Now the dialogue injectors they simply
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| And I respect those that hold it against me
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| Paid rules and made rules to break rules
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| Stayed cool amongst tools and fake fools
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| Gave jewels to use from cradle to grade school
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| To the grave and still wade through these pools of
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| I love you when I hate you
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| And the turntable keeps on turnin' and turnin'
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| Nothing can fuck with the way it goes around
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| First off focus, figure out why you wrote it
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| What’s the motive, what you use to grow it
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| Where you trying to go with it?
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| Do the people want it, do they need it?
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| Or would they rather that you keep it?
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| Is the party now poppin', or at least a couple of heads noddin'?
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| Does the pass or fail depend on whether or not a check’s gotten?
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| Is it the laughter, the love, the hope?
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| Is it the aspiration to make other rappers think you’re dope?
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| Is it the fans, the adoration of devils and angels?
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| The hunger, you want more than left over egg-roll
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| Shit, I made a video, I ain’t even got cable
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| So if you ain’t down with what we do you better lay low
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| My future’s made of play dough, past is made of stone
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| Virgo playboy Slug is done building a home
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| And it lead me to believe the 3D that I breathe
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| Through the TV and the CD be the need to grit the teeth
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| A 20-something wasteland, here comes the out of place space man
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| Spread the wingspan, staring at the ocean like it was a woman
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| Hoping that she’ll let me run my toes through her pink sand
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| Now here I sit in this cellar
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| Writing my interpretations of Helter Skelter
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| It goes 1 part hustler, 2 parts good guy
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| Sounds like it should, but the shit doesn’t look right
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| Took my hook and pierced your skin, so now when I say jump
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| You say when, when I say now all of y’all say where
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| When I say Atmos, you say phere
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| You know me, but just the me I let you see
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| The me you need to so you could set yourself free
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| You’ll have to fuck Slug up to shut Slug up
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| But for now baby close your mouth and lift your butt up
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| I used to play the back of the club in study mode
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| Placing bets on who would leave the set with a bloody nose
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| (Headshots) Headshots used to talk a lot of shit
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| Used to walk alot of shit, the pretrial of accomplishment
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| Before I knew that this network existed
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| Just another baggy pants sweat-shirted misfit
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| The pilot sticker bombed spell it right S-L-U-G
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| Don’t get it wrong, that shit’s my life
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| And I’m thankful for the angles, the lessons I’ve learned
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| I’m happy as hell for how the carousel turned
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| Smilin' at the angel that stole my sperm
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| Cuz now maybe the legend can outlive the germ
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| And the turntable keeps on turnin' and turnin'
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| Nothing can fuck with the way it goes around
|
| And the turntable keeps on turnin' and turnin'
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| Nothing can fuck with Edie Brikell |