| It’s gotta be tough, man. |
| Being God?
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| Being God, man? |
| That shit is hard, I imagine
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| The responsibility? |
| To be God?
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| Get the fuck outta here
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| First of all, imagine never being surprised
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| Picture that for a second
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| Nothing unexpected. |
| No «Holy fuck, that’s my favorite record»
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| No lucky breaks, scoring the rarest shit in your collection
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| Fucking millions of hotties with no need for protection
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| You’re Mr. Know-it-all. |
| You fucking own them all
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| You can let go and fall. |
| You fucking float, is all
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| The finest hoes, you saw. |
| Vaginas, you rode 'em all
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| Line up and explode them all, pins to a bowling ball
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| But it must be hella boring. |
| No challenge ain’t rewarding
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| If winning was a given, son, what you’ve won: unimportant
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| If success if automatic, where’s the magic when you own it?
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| There’s no sport when you resort to all sorts of with no opponent
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| I sorta feel sorry for God. |
| It’s probably odd throwing lighting rods
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| At people, pissed, cursing, like they’re the better person for the job
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| Without a shoulder to lean on. |
| No one to hold ya, 'cause they peons
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| Nowhere to go, 'cause you’re way too big for this floating boulder that we on
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| Here for eons, fighting traitors, demons, devils, and hatin'
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| It seems when trouble’s our way in, they beam up, double the prayin'
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| We’re talking sticky notes galore of who needs what and what for
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| Cure the sick, feed the poor, then they’re like, «thanks, but we need more»
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| Don’t put my baby. |
| Protect my son; |
| he’s gone to war
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| Help my dad; |
| his back is sore. |
| Keeping track is sure, but
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| Thirty mill' a day or more, plus watching us and keeping score
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| That earthquake in Ecuador, was it Him? |
| We don’t know for sure
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| Too much power (too much pressure)
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| Much too holy (No one’s fresher)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| He’s too needed (too elevated)
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| Too forgiving (No one’s greater)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| Why you tripping? |
| Everything is in his plan
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| Some shit, don’t no one understand
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| How do we know that’s true? |
| 'Cause back in 1422, Pakistan
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| He told us. |
| It’s written in the scriptures. |
| Not in words, pictures
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| Right there it is, in the pyramids, in the shadows when the sun eclipses
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| And they say He’s everywhere, even on the court when you’re hoopin'
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| But if you try passing Him the ball, of course, you’re fucking stupid
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| Is He here with me right now, even in the booth thing?
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| Is He sitting on your lap when you’re pooping? |
| Maybe
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| He was probably bored out of his mind before he made the planet
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| Just fucking floating in the dark, probably couldn’t stand it
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| Then he planned it, kind of His own ant farm. |
| It’s what He deserves
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| He can observe us, swerve us, and serve us, unnerve us, curving his nerves
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| Perfect, servants, if we’re jerks, He can hurt us
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| Insert us, have some fun, and when we’re done, murk us
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| On purpose, His purpose, to work us, dodge serpents
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| Revert us to the bling kingdom’s circus, it’s worth this when curtains
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| You’ve heard this in churches
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| Or, for eternity:
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| You burnin' with vermin. |
| It hurts, and you squirmin'
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| (Whew) Forever’s a Hell of a time to be churnin'
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| Concerned, you thought Heaven awaits, but saw the reddest of gates
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| Now you stressin' with intestines infected with snakes
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| He gave you a heart and a brain and everything you need to beat him
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| But there you are, slithering and centipeding. |
| Shame
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| Too much power (too much pressure)
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| Much too holy (No one’s fresher)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| He’s too needed (too elevated)
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| Too forgiving (No one’s greater)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| God don’t got no posse, or pose for paparazzi
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| He don’t leave after parties in fleets of Bugattis
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| He’s so damn introverted, if He spoke, no one heard it
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| It’s absurd how cool this fool be schoolin' His service
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| When He first got the gig, though, was He still just a kid?
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| Who the fuck hired Him, though? |
| Someone hidden in a pyramid?
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| All His responsibilities and insane abilities
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| He’ll blow the wind and spill the seas all while still chillin' with me
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| He’s killing me, you feelin' me? |
| What’s the real deal? |
| start tellin' me
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| But still, this shit seem, I feel His love instilled in me
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| Thrillin' me, it be ill with that skill in His will
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| The whole deal, but on the real, I don’t fill the build, if you will
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| Too many pills, so hey, I guess I gotta say: Nope!
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| Ha ha ha! |
| Yo, maybe go try the Pope
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| If I did, though, I would most definitely throw a lightning bolt
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| At them mother fucking creatures who grope little kids
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| Too much power (too much pressure)
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| Much too holy (No one’s fresher)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| He’s too needed (too elevated)
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| Too forgiving (No one’s greater)
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| I could never be God (I could never be God)
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| I could never be God (I could never)
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| (I could never)
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| (I could never)
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| (I could never)
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| (I could never) |