| They say a man is immature until the sun is in his hands,
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| And the fields start to die.
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| Don’t stand upon his land, you can stand up to the cloud
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| And never understand there’s a big man crying
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| He never learn to laugh, when I’ll die I’m gonna sit up in my casket
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| Held my family like it’s the last time I’ll have it.
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| You know I’m trying not to take this gratitude for granted,
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| I know I got a heart that could be harder than some granite.
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| This graph I got this hand is getting drastic, crafted
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| Something bad if you taking over what I can
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| Do you call it magic
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| A blood is lavender.
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| They called me a romantic.
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| As hopeless as I am, love paralyzed.
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| Strained in this quick sandy call it place to camping,
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| My homie smoking weed beside a fireplace,
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| Decide to lock out the cabin, I guess.
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| That’s all you can get
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| For? |
| your neck. |
| I’m high struggle?
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| They got to follow next, you don’t believe me
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| But I seize 'em when the breezes from the coast touch a boat
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| with a thirty thousands in coach
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| Little Nemo when the clock strikes 12 upon the bed post.
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| Flying cigarettes,
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| so when my memory they press the wax to 12 inch so they could drop in.
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| So ironic, like my generation representing city populace.
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| Raise the roof upon to me, I stay on top of it.
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| I’m forty thousands leagues above under-stuffed in the sarcophagus.
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| Coffin? |
| articles under waterfalls prisons caught my eye, it was love at first
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| optical,?? |
| to life, these people would die for it.
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| But I’m ahead of all these bitches, in the skyfall
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| Sharper than the sliver of light and a broken soul
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| They cut into my skin, them faces on the?
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| I swear to God I saw my dead friends in the sand doom faces they blew away in
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| the wind
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| I knew They had to.
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| It’s called to never giving up when all the pieces in background are crumbling
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| in the dust,
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| My clock is mumbling once while the Earth’s blood boils up under the crust.
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| It’s called to never giving up when all the pieces in background are crumbling
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| in the dust,
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| My clock is mumbling once while the Earth’s blood boils up under the crust.
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| I’m losing altitude, you’re losing trust because they count on you.
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| Everybody wants to be the alpha dude. |