| I grew up a young choir boy
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| Christian like Krizz, is like the last you ever think to pick a fight
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| Kids used to throw rocks at me
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| When the bus stops at me
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| How sis would come running out
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| «Leave my brother alone!», she would tell em
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| «I'm a kill em momma, if they send him home again yellin'
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| I’m a erase at least one of em from this place
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| I hated they make fun of him cause his face»
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| Go on and on, traveling on through adolescence
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| Teach em a lesson, carry a weapon
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| Cause that’s the only way to keep em off of me
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| They teasin me awfully bad
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| Wish I could take of my mask and I’m asking my momma,
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| «Why you think the lord seen it fit to hit me with this?»
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| He could make a different Krizz, if he wanted to
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| Here’s what I’m gonna do… I’m a tattoo my face and erase this:
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| This is Vitiligo
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| What kind of life is that for a boy who looks like this? |
| (Famous)
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| Wanting to fit in this world, but it’s just a wish
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| Pointing fingers, people whisper. |
| Silhouette, of a lonely figure
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| (Where can he go?) Where can he hide? |
| Livin' inside, of his Vitiligo
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| Save this… freak of… nature songbird… make his way from…
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| From the bottom all the way to the top
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| Even though he hated the way he painted, momma told me I can’t stop
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| Cause no one cares, if anyone’s watching
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| People stare, at Mr. Watson
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| But that never stopped him from coppin' the,
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| Vodkas, and was popular
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| It’s over and shit
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| Colder the older it get
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| Sorry pop never made it to see his son be the great one
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| Escape from the place that definitely made him
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| Look what I did, I made a life, a wife, and a kid
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| People know me wherever I go:
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| This is Vitiligo
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| What kind of life is that for a boy who looks like this? |
| (Famous)
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| Wanting to fit in this world, but it’s just a wish
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| Pointing fingers, people whisper. |
| Silhouette, of a lonely figure
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| (Where can he go?) Where can he hide? |
| Livin' inside, of his Vitiligo
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| This, is Vitiligo… hold on…
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| «Here comes the drop! |
| Here comes the drop! |
| Oh shit!» |