| Alot of people ask me… where the fuck I been at, last few years
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| Shit I don’t know… but I do know, I’m back now… haha
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| Dre, I’m down here, under the ground, dig me up Broken tibias, fibias, yeah fix me up 60 sluts, all of them dying from asphyxia
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| After they sip piss through a Christopher Reeves sippy cup
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| Dixy cup, it’s toxins, boxes of oxy pads
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| Enough oxy cotton to send a fucking Ox to rehab
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| Whack job in the back, in a black stocking cap
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| Jacking off to a hockey mask, at a boxing match
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| «He can’t say that», yes he can, I just did faggot
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| Now guess again, you better text message your next of kin
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| Tell em shit’s about to get extra messy, especially when
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| I flex again, and throw a fuckin’lesbian in wet cement
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| Faggoty faggoty faggoty, raggedy Anne and Andy, no Raggedy Andy and Andy, no it can’t be, it can’t be Yes it can be, the fuckin’anti-christ is back Danny
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| It’s satan in black satin panties
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| This is amityville, calamity, god damn it insanity
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| Pills, fanny pack filled with Xany’s
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| Through every nook and cranny, lookin’for trannys
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| Milk and cookies, spilt on my silk negligee, looky
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| Razor b-lades with me to make you b-leed
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| Cases of Maybelline make up lay on a table of weed
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| Slim Shady, shit sounds like a fable to me
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| 'Til he jumps out of the fuckin’toilet when you’re takin’a pee
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| 6 semen samples, 17 strands of hair
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| Found in the back of a van after the shoot with Vanity Fair
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| Hannah Montana prepare to elope with a can opener
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| And be cut open like cantaloupe on canopy beds
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| And gladbags yeah, glad to be back
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| Cause last year was a tragedy that landed me smack dab in rehab
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| Fuckin’doctor, I ain’t understand a damn what he said
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| I planned to relapse the second I walked out of that bitch
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| Two weeks in brighton, I ain’t enlightened
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| Biting into a fuckin’vicodin like I’m a viking
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| Oh lightening is striking, might be a fuckin’sign I need a psychic
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| Evaluation, fuck jason it’s friday the 19th
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| That means it’s just a regular day
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| And this is the kinda shit I think of regularly
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| Fuckin’lesbian, shouldn’t of had her legs in the way
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| Now she’s pregnant and gay, missing both legs and begging to stay
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
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| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground
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| Tell the critics I’m back and I’m coming
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| To spit it back in abundance
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| Hit a fag with onions, then split a fag of funions
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| Mad at me, understandable, cannibal, shoot an animal
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| out of a cannon and have him catapult, add an adult
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| Captain of a cult, with an elite following
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| To turn halloween back to a trick or treat holiday
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| Have Michael Myers looking like a liar
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| Swipe his powers, replace his knife with flowers and a stack of flyers
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| Hit Jason Vorhees with a 40, stuck a sepository up his ass
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| And made him tell me a story, gave Hannibal lector a fuckin’nectarine
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| And sat him in the fuckin’fruit and vegetables section and gave him a lecture
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| Walked up elm street with a fuckin’wiffle bat drew
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| Fought Freddy Krugar, and Edward Scissorhands too
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| Then came out with a little scratch, ooh
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| Looking like I got in a fucking pillow fight, with a triple fat goose
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| Insanity? |
| can’t it be vanity, where’s the humanity
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| In havin’a twisted fantasy with an arm and leg amputee
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| Straight jacket with 108 brackets
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| And a strap that wraps twice around my back, then they latch it Cut your fuckin’head off, and that’s where you headed off to Get it, headed off to? |
| Medic, this headache’s awful
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| this anesthetic’s pathetic, so’s this diabetic waffle
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| and this prosthetic arm keeps crushing my hard taco
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| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
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| Nowhere to run, to run to now
|
| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
|
| Looking for me, I’m underground
|
| Here come’s the rain, and thunder now
|
| Nowhere to run, to run to now
|
| I disappeared, they’ll wonder how
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| Looking for me, I’m underground |