| That’s when you know a group is hip
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| Is when your parents say
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| What is it with the hippy, hip, hip, hippy glows?
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| And you can’t understand a word they are sayin'
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| Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
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| Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
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| Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
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| Back on up, back on up, oh yeah, back on up
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| Oh yeah, back on up
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| Make room, 'cause we about to start swelling
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| Catching attitude, get buck sweat it up
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| And really lose cool, its what we been commissioned to do
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| So back on up and give me room, we gotta keep makin' moves
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| My long range aim is dedicated to change
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| Persist to twist brains with rhymes, only God can explain
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| Attain divine intervention if your attentions arrested
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| Imprisoned and in position to listen to lessons given
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| Gotta make moves steadily, heavily bruising these dudes
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| We got the gift, but abuse tools misleading these youths see
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| My birthright is light in the darkness of night
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| To lead the lost paying the price of sacrificing my life
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| I’ve been sittin' and contemplating waiting anxiously peeking
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| Perception of these releases embracing the deeper reasons
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| Of timing and perfect season believing this thing is bigger
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| Than faces and sound scan reaching for the completion
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| Of purpose in promised land watchin' behind the curtain
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| For certain the game is hurtin' looking for some solution
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| Searchin' for revolution like music is the conclusion
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| Refusing to look at life a livion for forward movement
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| — repeat 2X
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| Move cowards, move all you cowards move
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| Move cowards, move all you cowards move
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| Move cowards, move all you cowards move
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| He scared, she scared and if you scared then move
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| Oh God, don’t let me act up I feel a fit comin' on
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| My conniption’s, my conviction’s reaction to what’s goin' on
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| My rebuttal’s far from subtle, take you there just like a shuttle
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| Gather round the huddle embrace the pace
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| I spit at give it a kiss and cuddle
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| Boy what’s that there you sayin'?
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| I’m tight like the shorts that men look gay in
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| Oh Lordy, you don' said too much
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| My slightest touch is a cobra clutch
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| Let it be known, we are the epitomy of strange and bizarre
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| Swichin' up and change our repertoire, come discover who we are
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| Wreaking havoc on Satan’s mavericks through a labyrinth
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| Filled with Nooks and crannies, an elite group called the factors
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| We like the X-Men so uncanny, imagine looking
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| Up seeing the plastered ceiling cracking, it ain’t because
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| We broke, we lost our minds for God provoked and crazy actin'
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| — repeat 4X
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| The beat is so crazy |