| Well it’s the rap beautician
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| The facts you listen
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| I blast through rhythms like hash through your system
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| True in love and wisdom
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| Well off and witty
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| Using God’s sleeve to wipe the hell off the city
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| See my elegance, dining on the periodic table called developments
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| The universe designs my intelligence
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| Drop science down a bottomless pit
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| Run swift through a handstand on pyramid tips
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| The sun splits the waterfront causing prismatic effects
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| Butterflies come alive to have sex
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| Birds fly out of a top hat slow
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| To join the brilliance of wilderness and soar through the Congo
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| Speed the convo through colors and shapes
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| My word choice is turquoise I love to create
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| My art hurdles over the clouds of dark purple
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| Red mixes yellow and blue in sharp circles
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| Paint splashes over your conscious like canvas
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| Colors jump out of the body to form branches
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| Psychedelic images flash like avalanches
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| Illustrate skill with the quill to build stanzas
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| I use pens like hallucinogens
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| So who can pretend, my music ain’t a beautiful thing
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| A suitable king
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| Deserving of the jewels and the rings
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| That only flatters my appearance like the tulips in spring
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| I’m cool with the gods, I could never use the facade
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| Of a musician that celebrate hate and abuse women
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| The beautician is back, Humble Magnificent wizard of rap
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| Throwing tuxedos on the wax
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| The numbers they fall off the clock midnight
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| At the museum an apple is stolen out of a still life
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| You see 'em, stand by the mirror with no reflection
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| A point five appears on your shirt for half stepping
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| Scientists explain that they no longer know things
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| A dog takes a shit on the floor and grows wings
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| Planets of the solar system now trade places
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| Statues and national fame become faceless
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| Great lakes evaporate and leave no traces
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| The man with the mustache reveals the three aces
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| Briefcases open to expose sheet music
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| The thief hears the piece performed and weeps to it Master violinist plays the solo one handed
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| The notes on the page become ants that run frantic
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| Slowly the symphony dissolves into noise
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| The phantom with the glass eye sweats and loses poise
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| A scene is made, the cheese brigade is summoned
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| The man in the mask walks fast and starts running
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| An officer fires a pistol in black apparel
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| But instead of lead, records grow from out the barrel
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| The criminal escapes through a disappearing door marked beauty
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| Exiting the world forevermore |