Kicking down the doors
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Here all your sound is obviously about nothing
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We will drag such people around the black city
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We press the pedals firmly to the floor
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And the caravan goes to collect
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The heads of all who are waiting for us
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Give me a microphone, in the furnace your contract -
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I am the author of the truth
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Mask on the face, you did not lose -
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"Grebzy" in your hut
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We break contracts for one or two,
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While your flow is on slowmo
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'Cause we don't need anything
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Just give us a reason
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(Hey!) Posers filled all the screens
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(Hey!) You're not giants in size
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I don't understand you (Woah)
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Byter byte on byte
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How many of these are on the air?
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They have temptation out of abundance
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Looking forward to success without effort
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Filki-filki-filki rule here
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How many of these are on the air?
|
They have temptation out of abundance
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We are waiting for kindness and a truce
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Feel it, feel it, feel it, feel it
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Fuck contracts!
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Politics - f*ck!
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Fake MC - Fuck it!
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I am the author of the truth!
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Media - f*ck!
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Fuck drugs
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Pharaohs - fuck
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I am the author of the truth!
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Half face mask
|
And the boy does not burn
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Opposite the policeman
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Eyes will fill with blood
|
sorry like a wasp
|
After all, the streets do not feel sorry for the goat
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Put your face in the asphalt
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There will be a reason to become stronger
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I'm a reporter hater
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How many divorced rap actors
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Posers, face dealers
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But where is their fat sound?
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Masquerade - how bitches coward their nasty ass
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You are not newschool, you are a kindergarten
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I'm Mr. Muscle, I wipe the dirt |