| Two sheets to the wind in a taxi
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| Two feet to the wind in the backseat (Two feet)
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| Two beeps to the car in front of us
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| Or one of us ending up wrapped round the chassis (These rhymes)
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| Thinking ‘bout these rhymes, and what they gave me
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| Sounds out this world, but a microphone and (Microphone)
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| Two turntables saved me
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| Took me round the world and bought me a home and (They know)
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| I’ve seen all these other crew’s bank too (I see you)
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| Not knowing all the ways people helped ‘em
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| Might not ever get a damn thank you
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| But they’re sure ‘nough gonna get a you’re welcome (You're welcome)
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| Matter fact, I ain’t leaving (No)
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| I was here first and I don’t believe 'em (No)
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| I was here bursting, listening to Primo and Chino and Thirstin
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| And missing out on being there for people in person (I'm sorry)
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| 'Cause we don’t sleep when we’re working
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| We don’t bleed when we’re hurting ()
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| We wear our heart on our sleeve and I’m certain (Come on)
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| That we’ll feel the burden till we call it curtains, you feel me?
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| Do you feel me?
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| This that
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| Light inside the core that can blind with its force
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| It’s the writing on the wall; |
| light it up on the porch
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| It’s 1994, five mic’s in The Source
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| It’s a mighty; |
| mighty roar from the crowd and of course, it’s
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| This
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| Do you feel me?
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| Went from going through quotes in the liners
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| To being known from the shows on the fliers
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| Playing packed rooms, heading to the back room
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| To cool down my face with some ice from the rider
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| Looking out to a crowd full of lighters
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| And the day those lights don’t inspire us
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| You’ll see me walking out
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Two sheets on a surface of water
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| Loose-leaf writing worthless and torn up
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| If I could do these words justice
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| You’d see how much it’s worth that I fought for
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| Every kid that never got one mention
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| Every little bit of love or affection
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| I’m done with pretending the sun is descending
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| And all good things must come to an ending
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| 'Cause I swore to the day this is
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| Nothing more than a flawed entertainment biz
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| And if I walk away with nothing well let me tell you something
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| That’s fucking more than I came here with
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| Feel me? |
| (I'm gone)
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| Do you feel me? |
| (I'm gone)
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| And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t grateful
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| For my life for my friends and for the faithful
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| It’s been a ride but there’s been a few times
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| That I’d thought I’d lose sight when the effort was so painful
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| But rap gave me such inspired dreams
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| In fact maybe touched my life when things
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| Got a little crazy and nobody would pay me
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| The ends that plainly justified the means
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| At last I can see we’ve all been blind
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| It’s hard to believe that all this time
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| That I wore my heart on my sleeve for this art and the scene
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| Gonna be hard when I leave that all behind
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| You feel me?
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| Do you feel me?
|
| Went from going through quotes in the liners
|
| To being known from the shows on the fliers
|
| Playing packed rooms, heading to the back room
|
| To cool down my face with some ice from the rider
|
| Looking out to a crowd full of lighters
|
| And the day those lights don’t inspire us
|
| You’ll see me walking out
|
| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
|
| Went from going through quotes in the liners
|
| To being known from the shows on the fliers
|
| Playing packed rooms, heading to the back room
|
| To cool down my face with some ice from the rider
|
| Looking out to a crowd full of lighters
|
| And the day those lights don’t inspire us
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| You’ll see me walking out
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Low winter sun, light the dawn in gold
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Though when it’s done night is on us all
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Nowhere to run, writings on the wall
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| So when it come, rise before we fall
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Low winter sun, light the dawn in gold
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Broken and done dying on us all
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
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| Nowhere to run, writings on the wall
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| I’m a ghost, I’m gone
|
| So when it comes, rise, rise, before we fall
|
| Went from going through quotes in the liners
|
| To being known from the shows on the fliers
|
| Playing packed rooms, heading to the back room
|
| To cool down my face with some ice from the rider
|
| Looking out to a crowd full of lighters
|
| And the day those lights don’t inspire us
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| You’ll see me walking out
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| I’m a ghost |