| To thine own self be true is the credo
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| I’ve been saying who I am on the 8−0
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| Eight in the snare since my fate was fatal
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| It appeared that I moved like a great tornado
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| With my temper getting hotter than a baked potato
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| Or the temp up in the ride with these plates of yayo
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| I was meant to hit the bottom and escape
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| Real superhero no mask no cape
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| Back to the basics, flicked off the roaches, locust
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| Back from the dead like hocus pocus
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| Maybe that can go and give hope to the hopeless
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| Still spitting certified dope from the pullpit
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| So if I can testify with a wise sermon
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| And paint a picture of a soul as it dies yearning
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| To cheat death with the fire in his eyes burning
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| You hang around long enough to see the skies turning
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| And I can feel this lightning and rain
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| Whirlwind of chaos pull my life in its train
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| My eyeballs stained from the cycle of pain
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| My brain running back what it’s like to be Slaine
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| Bullet holes in the souls of these hosted foes
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| Now i walk through these blocks like a ghost in robes
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| It’s like I’m gone from my body but I’m still here
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| And I’ve lost any instinct to feel fear
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| Slaine:
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| To thine own self be true you gotta know
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| How to find what’s close to you, don’t let it go
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| Rite Hook:
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| X2 Be true to yourself and you’ll never fall
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| Slaine:
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| To thine own self be true you gotta feel in your gut
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| Which is your first instinct and it’s real
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| Rite Hook:
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| X2 Be true to yourself and you’ll never fall
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| X2 To thine own self be true to yourself, to yourself
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| Emerge in the mist, I’m urging the swift
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| If you can learn quick, I’ll teach you about the birds and the bricks
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| Where I’m from the young boys become men at age ten
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| Bust most are dumb and either wind up dead or in the state pen
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| Glocks are easy to get, rocks are easy to flip
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| Cops are greasy as shit and shot as easy as this
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| Where I’m from dope addicts will grill your doberman
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| And dope habits start up your nose to float through your syringe
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| Cold wave colossus had surgery to smuggle cocaine in his armpit
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| Alter weight like the arctic, all city like graffiti on the wall gritty
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| My girl 80 pounds wet pussy your titty, listen open your ears y’all focus on it
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| Count money by the pound we can fill the whole apartment
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| Blood ceremonies and ritual nods, ?this the wise just that dies a synchronized
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| surprise?
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| ?State of greats? |
| with shooter in the loft, spray AK’s and uzi’s at your squad
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| High five catch your guzi at the bar, drive-by spray a uzi at your car
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| To thine self be true is this a rock bottom, truthfully I want my cock sucked
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| by a hot model
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| Another blowjob and a pizza, then jump in the studio so I can body your feature
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| Be true to yourself |