A rusty iron in my left pocket
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A cold bunk bed mismatch
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Embolism loves woman hard
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Aga delaying this fame for now (ya, ya)
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Political books in my bag
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Find the codes of rebellion in my brain, you have a way
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Hard effort, this madness is making my mind go crazy (ya, ya)
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The faces of the guys next to me are full of evidence
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The greatest authority we had time trouble with tomorrow
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Cold decor of cold guys
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Flip the butterfly, protect it with a jacket
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You will get tired on my slope, your liver will look at you poor
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PMC makes Hanibal smell a bag of shit ahh
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Your head is heavy in this shithole
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Not, unfortunately, things are just right
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I'm uncomfortable man
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When a clown is so crammed with me
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The property of the agha goes away, the life of the maraba
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The pilgrim receives tribute, it is charity
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Opens his mouth Boss manger and gives it
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Thank you, it is worthy of you, sister
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Yeah, yeah! |
Embolism doesn't like tricks
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Unfortunately, he can't bounce off his body with a bruise.
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My gray abyss, my dust pieces
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I threw the rotten façades into my heart
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We marched one night police belt (risk)
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They said Embo you are sick
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I'm metastasizing to bouncy limbs
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It won't be too late for him to step on your street too |
Oh, this is the lost generation
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Look around 'can't you be sober'
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Does it matter refugee native
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Either you're a gun or a bullet
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Your head is heavy in this shithole
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Not, unfortunately, things are just right
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I'm uncomfortable man
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When a clown is so crammed with me |