| ICP, Swollen Members!
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| That underground connect
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| Swiftly movin' in the dark of night!
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| Over this Mike E. Clark…
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| Right here!
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| A lot of severely depressed kids…
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| Uh, really enjoy music a lot
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| So I think this, uh…
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| Draws a lot…
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| Raise him out of his shell socially
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| It’s been really good for boys…
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| Looks forward to the music
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| Well…
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| I have panic disorder, rage, severe depression
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| On top of all that, I’m stressin' (Uh-huh)
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| Took a blind date to my therapy session
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| And then tried to kill her, her first impression
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| Was I’m groovy, I gotta be. |
| I need a lobotomy. |
| (Yes)
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| But, when I press «Play,» trouble leaves up outta me
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| Fuck the real world that my fat ass stuck in
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| Cause in my music, hotties are fuckin'! |
| (Whoo!)
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| Expression, gettin' out all I wrote
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| Depression, rippin' out all your throat!
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| And if my hearing was ever to go…
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| Mass murder would be inevitable! |
| (Ha ha huh ha!)
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| I’m a slick romantic, quick witted and funny
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| Take away my tunage and shit gets bloody! |
| (Blah!)
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| Pull out the plug and kill the track
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| Instant panic attack!
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| Gigantic!
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| I strive!
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| Only through the magical world of melody!
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| I’d rather die!
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| Than face the sounds of my reality!
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| Just let the rhythm ride
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| And I’ll survive somewhere inside it!
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| Lemme strum wit' the bass and drum
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| I wanna run to the place I come from!
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| Silence is pain, stress and pressure!
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| Paint my picture, so much fresher!
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| Kill the quiet, play it again!
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| Keep me alive, never let it end!
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| So, let the rhythm ride
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| And I’ll survive somewhere inside it!
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| Lemme strum wit' the bass and drum
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| I wanna run to the place I come from!
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| Blood on my hands, blood on my T-Shirt
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| And everywhere else it could reach or squirt!
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| Violence, brought upon by silence
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| When they kill the beat, that’s where my mind went! |
| (Woo hoo hoo!)
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| My nerves went acrobatic
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| Skippin', flippin', trippin' what happened?
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| They say, «Hip-hop's for kids!» |
| Silly rabbit!
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| Your throat I snap and squeeze and stab it!
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| They drive terrorists out wit' rock n roll
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| They don’t gimme any, and I’m outta control!
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| All I need is freedom, unlock my soul!
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| Ignite my powers, shock explode!
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| A lot of severely depressed kids…
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| Uh, really enjoy music a lot
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| So I think this, uh…
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| Draws a lot…
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| Raise him out of his shell socially
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| My name’s Madchild, I got mental problems
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| Walk around town a demented goblin
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| I’m the little monster, I’m going back shit!
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| Axes and hatchets, packets of matches!
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| Homicidal maniac, I am diabolical!
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| Angry and maniacal, I’m a human fireball!
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| Stand vertical, Mad’s a mass murderer!
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| Psycho laugh hurting you, mad to mass burglar!
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| I’m Illusionary, confusin' my very essence
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| Execution from electricutin' every sentence
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| Very buried his verses come out the graveyard of profession
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| No comparin' our performance to the patterns of aggression. |
| (C'mon!)
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| Incandescent like fluorescent light, sights upon the target!
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| When I hit it I’mma get it 'til the music flood the market!
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| I’m a tsunami, Swollen Army general front liner, flat liner
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| Black binder, rhyme book fact finder! |
| (Yeah!)
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| I strive!
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| I strive through the melody!
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| I’d rather die!
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| Than face reality! |