| The days run away like wild horses over the hill
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| The violent instigate the thrills in our three-course meals
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| Tore apart, the cards set, no more hands to deal
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| Scared kids lift the ground just to vandal and steal
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| No time for books, we’ve got these plans to build
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| And these vans to peel off, mans to kill
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| Try to do the dance emancipated, jaded and ill
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| Fuck the managers, crammed and castrated the fields
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| It’s the life we living, tripping it hypoallergenic
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| We’re statistics, counting calories to calisthenics
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| Face paint, lipstick from when we had braces
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| Shrinks to save face with the wild it embraces
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| Getting hand jobs on Craig’s list
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| The faceless patients like mice who be racing the cages at night
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| I feel the moon hunt me down with a spike
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| But I’m always on the move like a lightning strike
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| My light’s too bright, my sky’s too high
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| My rhyme’s too tight
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| They finally get it that I got rhymes to rock two mics
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| You cruise already but what direction you headed?
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| I advise you stray from heads that’ll get you beheaded
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| It’s about time the community is giving me credit
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| I’ve been peddling rhymes since '97 plus ten
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| And probably go till heavens ends, chilling in my den
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| Drinking Red Bull to give me the wings and an edge
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| Are we eating now?
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| Are we eating now?
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| Bring me the winds of a hanger
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| Let me turn this beat off |