| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| Guess I got a way with words I could get away with murder
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| Ever heard of Aspergers? |
| It’s a rare condition
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| It’s what you’re suffering from when you simply don’t care if its an
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| Eighty degree day and there’s no fricken air conditioning
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| And you can’t see, the b****'s hair is frizzin'
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| 'Cause you got the windows up blaring the system in your Chevrolet Prism
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| The devil ain’t on the level same as him
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| Just someone who rebels in straight masochism
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| And imagine him giving him an adjective an a** whooping
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| So bad they should put his a** in prison
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| I word bully I verbally abuse verbs like he did something to me personally
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| Used forgetfully so I cut class and ditch it now I fully rap
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| Cadillac from a K Car, my a** from a hole in the ground,
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| still can’t tell em apart
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| Came straight out the trailer park screaming I’m proud
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| To shop at K-mart and it became art
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| And I’m still fed up and as pissed off as they are
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| To this day I still get in fights with the same broad
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| At the same Walmart arguing over the same cart
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| In the middle of the aisle whilin I don’t give a f*** I don’t play!
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| You think you saw this basket first?
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| Yeah backwards like motherf***ing Bob and Silent Jay
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| Illest s*** you could think I would say
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| Mind’s like a pile of clay
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| When’s the last time you saw a villain with a cape?
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| With a gaping hole in it
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| Whip out, whip down
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| Tied him around my neck went down the fire escape of the Empire State
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| Straight fell straight down to the ground splattered
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| all over the entire state
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| And straight to hell got an impaled by the gates
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| So Satan stuck his face in an ashtray
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| But I sacheted around flames with a match and I gave him the gas face
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| And this ain’t got nothing to do with a scalar
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| Being gay little faggot but by the way
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| Plus it’s getting darker by the day
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| I’m a combination of Skylar Grey, Tyler the Creator, and Violent Jay
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| It’s a f***ing miracle to be this lyrical
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| Paint my face with clown make up and a smiley face, I’m insane
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| Every rhyme I say, a**aults you like an ultra violet ray
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| I’m sellin' hatred buffet style all the s*** you can eat
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| $ 11.99 so come on and pile a plate
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| I’m throwin' down the gauntlet to see what hell I can raise
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| With the rhyme I’m spittin' while I’m s***tin' on the competition
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| In the meantime it’s always mean time
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| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I’ve been a career a**hole
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| I don’t see why these people always got my back
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| I done said so much f***ed up s***, I was born a mistake
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| But I was put here not by accident
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| I had a purpose and that purpose was to beat a beat purplish
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| Slaughter tracks, I done put my two dimes and a nickel in this s***
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| And I’m coming to get that quarter back
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| Like Ndamukong the drama can build
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| Your mama can ask me for my autograph
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| That cougars a MILF, she’s the oldest trick in the book
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| But I sure would fall for that
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| You done brought a bat to a rocket launcher fight
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| When I get on the mic I’m a snap
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| Make you wish the ambulance that took me to the hospital
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| When I overdosed would have caught a flat
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| If it makes you sick to your stomach pass it
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| Indigestion my suggestions’s Kaopectate
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| If it feels like I’m running away with the game
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| Its 'cause I am don’t speculate spectate
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| All I got is dick for days and insults for decades
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| But I get by my wicked ways, lady you can suck a dick till your neck aches
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| Cry till you get puffy eyes red face
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| But I’m leaving on this jet plane
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| You ain’t fly, you’re an airhead
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| I’m sick of pounding a square peg in a round hole,
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| sorry another catchphrase
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| But your baggage ain’t gonna fit in my storage over headspace
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| 'Cause you just ain’t big enough to fit your damaged goods |
| Other words don’t try to put the heart in a headcase
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| 'Cause baby stable mentally I ain’t I need my meds, I peed my bed
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| I’m going blind, I don’t see my legs, I keep on falling down
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| No wonder you can’t stand me, I need my cane
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| Someone help me I think my face is melting
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| If you felt these migrains, see these maggots eat my brain
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| This G-I-A-empty hole in my empty head
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| If you read my mind you can see my pain
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| And you could see why I’d be this way
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| Ever since I was knee high playin' with G.I. |
| Joes
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| Or shut the P-I-E hoes that peep my game
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| 'Cause I’m about, like a f***in' echo
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| Psycho on a cycle
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| If I hear Iko
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| I’m out of control like no
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| Other mike-o, stab you to the nightpost
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| Nothing but a hole inside your skull where you eye close
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| 'Cause I’m gonna sock it to you, dyko, you don’t like it
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| Get on your Harley Davidson menstrual cycle and ride it, like a motorbike
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| I’m gonna blow the mike the whole night so strike up
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| the f***in' maestro, I’m like nitro
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| And heigh-ho, hand me my shovel I’m libel to dig my hole deeper
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| It’s off to H-E double hockey sticks I go
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| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I’m getting by with my wicked ways
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| I’m loading up and I’m taking names
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| I want to dig my way to hell
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| Oh please be empty, please be empty, please be empty
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| Thank you, God
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| It’s a girl
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| I’m gonna rock this blouse and put a c*** in mouth
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| and get my balls blew out
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| And gay into the A. M
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| And lay with eighteen guys naked and let myself show, let myself show
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| But f*** it, suck from the tucket
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| Life’s too short to not stroke your bone
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| So everybody, everybody
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| Circle jerk, touch my body
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| Who is that? |
| Where are you going? |
| Mm come back
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| Why does everyone always leave me?
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| Hello? |
| F*** you then
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| Blow it out your a** |