| Up from womb to tomb, he rises grave to cradle
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| He makes his own meats, puts food on the table
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| It’s a full-time gig eatin' sin-on-the-cob
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| Yeah, the hours suck, but it’s a job
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| I say Hey
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Concrete hog with letters «BBQ»
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| Yeah, eatin' ain’t cheatin', it’ll have to do
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| He’s so slick that h can steal the shortnin'
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| Right out of the biscuit, not crackin' th crust, ya’ll
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| I say Hey
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
|
| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
|
| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
|
| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
|
| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul… |
| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul…
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| Feed that ego and you starve the soul… |