| At shot distance
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| Call it truth, call it mystic
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| Call me fox when I call her sour
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| I call her kitty
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| call her lady
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| Or call me the sword that will cool your neck
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| Takes his head off his shoulders
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| I call her to lie down with me,
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| But she wants to fly
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| She wants to know
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| She wants to understand the secrets between the lines
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| I'm not strict with her, I pull the trigger
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| And it's not a vice at all
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| That I want her, yes!
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| I want her so much, huh!
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| I drop things, go to her Instagram
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| I don't want an Oscar
|
| I don't want a Grammy
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| I want her on my knees, manny
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| To your knees
|
| To your knees
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| I want her I want her to me, to my knees
|
| I want her on my knees
|
| To your knees
|
| I want her on my knees, but!
|
| People will spend their lives on the block tomorrow and do the same thing
|
| I will continue to make muzlo that does not look like anything
|
| This kitty has frost on her skin
|
| I fell in love at first sight
|
| She doesn't believe in what people fuck, she knows the style of my squad
|
| Your thoughts are somewhere in the sky
|
| Your thoughts are somewhere in the sky
|
| Thin streaks of the color of cherry juice in space will leave eyes
|
| I find her among the sheets
|
| I stay without looking back
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| I remember what I wanted
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| I remember those whom I loved
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| I know that the main thing is the soul, because only style grows to it
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| I want to believe that I didn't do it in vain
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| Here the game is not for money
|
| All your people are fucking
|
| I swim out to the cleanliness, leaving behind the dregs
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| Leaving behind the mud
|
| Damn, but your thoughts are somewhere in the sky
|
| Your thoughts are somewhere in the sky
|
| I don't want an Oscar
|
| I don't want a Grammy
|
| I want her on my knees, manny |