| You think you know me
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| Oh, it’s stupid, but I will persevere
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| Oh
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| Yes
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| Sad man, uh
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| Rap and prison (Uh)
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| I know these basement dwellers need a villain (Oh)
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| How you livin'?
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| It’s Young Peggy without no pot to piss in
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| Heart throb, we pack pistols, we make your heart stop
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| Grab chest, meet God (Hahaha, sucka)
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| Rather go out the martyr way (Okay, martyr way?)
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| Still can’t believe I’m gettin' paid off this art today (Damn, Peggy)
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| I’m the medicine man (Yeah), keep a zip in my hand (Yeah)
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| I do work on the stage (Haha), I still feel like a fan
|
| Uh, when I pass I hope everything I did matter to you, baby, if it didn’t
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| Fuck it, when my body frigid (Yeah), all this music gon' keep Peggy livin'
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| It’s the young, black, Brian Wilson
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| Smile at these crackers who want me dead (Ack)
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| Fire helmets won’t protect your head (Brrt)
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| Don’t get sent to Jesus filled with lead, lil' nigga
|
| Uh, 'sup
|
| Yeah
|
| You know what I mean?
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| Sometimes you just gotta keep it simple like that, it’s just, it is what it is,
|
| you know?
|
| Yeah, hahaha
|
| That’s what— that’s what my dad tells me, no not at all
|
| That’s what my dad tells me, too, if I had a dad
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| My dad, my dad doesn’t—
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| Ah, yeah |