| I’m not really on a hustle
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| But I must admit I still enjoy the grind
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| Now traffic doesn’t bother me at all
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| 'Cause for once I’m not racing time
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| Questions I used to ask myself
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| Answers I needed now
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| Problems seem so unsolveable
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| But nothing much bothers me now
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| Nothing bothers me at all
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| I’m falling down again
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| But it seems this time I can’t break my fall
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| But if I hurt myself I’ll put my band-aid on
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| And I’ll fall, fall again
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| Questions I used to ask myself
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| Answers I needed now
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| Problems seem so unsolveable
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| But nothing much bothers me now
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| Nothing bothers me at all
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| Nothing’s perfect
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| But today is close as it will ever ever be
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| Making songs is hard when your happy
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| No one wants to hear about your lovely, lovely days
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| But why should I be bothered at all
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| When everyday I have a ball
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| Why should I care what you think about my songs
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| Why would I be bothered by the things you say at all
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| Told my manager
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| I had nothing scandalous to say
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| Told my publicist, «Note this, OK?»
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| Leave me by the beach today
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| So I can feel the breeze
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| And watch the children play
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| So why would I be bothered at all
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| When everyday I have a ball
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| Why should I care what you think about my songs
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| Why would I be bothered by the things you say at all
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| No meetings or phone calls
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| They only plan to catch you
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| All the words I see
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| Flying up above of me
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| Hope they have a very, very, very, very, very
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| Very nice day |