| My angels ain’t sober
|
| I cry for them over and over but they move no closer
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| My demons grow colder
|
| Been fighting my problems and vices
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| They beat me like Brody
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| Skulls in my collection
|
| I pray for my prey before I head into their direction
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| No passive-aggression
|
| No, my anger gets physical if it should be manifested
|
| Noose around my neck to replace my blue collar
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| Threw dollars at Medusa while she do me rock-hard
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| Cause I’ve been dancing with the devil in her moments of bliss
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| What’s as romantic as a death and a kiss?
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| When I’m living in sin and I’m swimming in the most vivid of visions
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| Of women with skin like cinnamon
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| Benjamins iffin frivolous feelings
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| And timid-less reactions to threats
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| Villainous intentions the instant my ego is checked
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| My mind is a cage
|
| My thoughts scatter like roaches
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| When light casts away all the shade
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| My heart is a pump
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| It push ichor and oil through me
|
| As they leak out my cuts
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| Twenty different visions and they all seem sus
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| Fifty different choices and they all take guts
|
| Ninety-nine crimes over nine lives
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| Now I got the nine to my head
|
| And it’s all fucked up
|
| Suicidal psychopath, psychonaut
|
| Sides and psychos, they revolve
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| Lord of voids, girls and boys, bring the noise
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| I am the one to which you call
|
| Super-soaker, wild up in the Croconaw
|
| I got the flow but could evolve
|
| No bull in my pit, just unlock my jaw
|
| And I talk backwards because
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| Dog I’m God
|
| Why the fuck you look at me?
|
| Man tell me what you see
|
| I’m an addict, I’m a fuck-up
|
| I’m a fake, I’m a disease
|
| All these dirty, gaudy motherfuckers
|
| Don’t know what I make
|
| Spark the blunt
|
| Pop the bottles
|
| Put your hands up
|
| Praise the kings
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| Jump!
|
| Show your hands to the kings
|
| Snap your neck to the beat
|
| Man, fuck!
|
| Aye yo, aye yo, aye yo, check
|
| Fist-fighting with my vices gets me so excited
|
| My heart afire, finna blaze, no need to ignite it
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| Liar liar, now you’re burning in my presence
|
| Brother learn your lesson
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| I don’t mind y’all turn em into weapons nigga
|
| Show your hands to the kings
|
| Snap your neck to the beat
|
| Bitch what?
|
| Dropout Kings gon' reign supreme |