| Last night the sky’s turned purple
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| and past lives in light tunnels
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| Light tunnels
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| In the back of a town car, staring at myself in a tux
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| Maneuvering through the people out front
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| Police barricade, orange cones and we’re stuck
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| Twenty minutes late and my manager blowing me up
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| Security guard in the garage at the entrance
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| We rolled down the window and showed him our credentials
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| Turrell flash the pass and he let’s us continue
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| Metal detectors, phone booths and reception
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| I should be grateful this my nine to five
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| I walk into the green room, alright, alright
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| I get on YouTube tryna learn how to tie on my tie
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| Fuck it, I’ll wear the bolo tonight, night, night
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| I probably shouldn’t have done the drugs I’ve done
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| A couple of days ago, detox son
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| I forgot my belt at the hotel
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| Fuck, now my team all scrambling to help, this sucks
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| I need something to cope, ain’t nothing to cope
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| I eat a banana and I drink a cup of throat coat
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| I wish I had the homies with me here but nope
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| Most of the artists that I know don’t get invited to this show
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| Because success to them determines our value
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| The make-up, the power, hairspray, perfume, make-up and powder
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| The ratings come down to who’s popular now in the song in the hour
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| Knock at the door, I let them in, hair and make up now, red carpet in ten
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| She covers up my freckles, concealer on my chin
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| I look orange but she swears that it’s natural with my skin
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| The show is starting, they take me to my seat
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| Walk in the arena, feel the ego of elites
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| Like the whole industry is staring at me
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| A row away from Taylor, two away from Jay and B
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| Last night the sky’s turned purple and
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| Past lives in light tunnels
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| Light tunnels
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| So that’s who we are
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| Just like the stars
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| Shine your light on
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| Shine your light on
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| Curtain opens up, host walks out
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| We stand in unison and applaud real loud
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| I watch the other people that have been around for a while
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| Just excited I got invited, feeling cool in the crowd
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| Thinking such and such is bold, look at such and such’s gold
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| Damn, such and such in real life, looks really fuckin' old
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| Such and such is fine, she’s with such and such, oh
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| I’m here but I’m barely even watching the show
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| Cause tonight we toast to our accomplishments
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| Insecurity dressed up as confidence
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| I said tonight we toast to our accomplishments
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| Insecurity dressed up as confidence
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| An award is given out, commercial, re-set the scene
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| They keep saying, «Coming up soon is the Biebs.»
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| Watch celebrities take selfies with celebrities
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| It feels so make believe
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| They want the gossip, they want the drama
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| They want Britney Spears to make out with Madonna
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| They want Kanye to rant and to go on longer, cause that equates to more dollars
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| They want talking topics, they want trending topics
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| They want outfits to be outlandish, they want sideways glances
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| Beef and problems, they want nipple slips
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| Cause they live for clips, this is economics
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| So we Botox our skin and we smile for the camera
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| Might as well get a new nose while we’re at it
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| This is America insecurity’s our fabric
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| And we wear it and we renamed it fashion
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| I look to my right, there’s a cameraman snapping
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| Picture after picture after sister after sister
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| Of the line of Kardashians, mind so distracted
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| Realized there’s an ovation and everyone’s clapping
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| Last night the sky’s turned purple and
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| Past lives in light tunnels
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| Light tunnels
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| So that’s who we are
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| Just like the stars
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| Shine your light on
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| Shine your light on
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| It’s just weird when the camera’s on you
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| Gotta remember to still clap if I lose
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| I see myself up on the screen
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| Split into five different artists on TV
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| And just look normal, don’t get turned into a meme
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| Relax, breathe
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| (And the award goes to: Macklemore and Ryan Lewis)
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| Me
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| There’s a stranger holding my award
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| I give her an awkward hug she says «It's yours»
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| Think I’m supposed to kiss her on the cheek
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| Man, I should have prepared an acceptance speech
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| Do I talk first? |
| Is it Ryan? |
| Is it me?
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| Fuck it, I’ll take the lead, grab the mic, say my piece
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| Do I look at camera one? |
| Do I look at camera three?
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| I promise, I’m honored, I’d like to thank God, my mamma and father |
| I’d like to thank Tricia, the mother of my daughter
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| I couldn’t have done it without you all in my corner
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| Especially the fans, been here since the beginning
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| Supported the music, allowed us to be independent
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| And I know, I shouldn’t be long-winded
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| Wait, hold up, don’t play the music, let me finish
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| This feels so narcissistic, dressed as a celebration to conceal it’s a business
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| Me, me, me, my, my image, my, my songs, my self interest
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| One big reality show that is scripted
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| And I can keep trying or get off the competition
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| I’d rather run out of my fifteen minutes
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| Than have life past me by and I forget to live it
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| But that doesn’t mean retirement
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| But I don’t like who I am in this environment
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| I forgot what this art’s for
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| I didn’t get through Freshman year to drop out as a Sophomore
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| Here I am in this arena, yeah, I’m scared
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| I got the people’s attention, don’t wanna lose it here
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| Thinking about my career, miserable here
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| But wanna make sure I’m invited next year
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| To the same damn party, celebrities and isle
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| Same blank stares, same fake smiles
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| Same big budget production
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| I know now who I am when the lights go out and it falls down
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| And the curtain closes, nobody notices
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| Wanted to throw up the Roc, wanted to be Hova
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| Wanted to be Wayne with the accent from the NOLA
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| Thought I’d feel better when the award show was over
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| But I guess I showed up late
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| Almost got cut off when they closed the gate
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| Just in time, what will I say?
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| Time to explain this unruly mess I’ve made
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| Ay, I guess I showed up late
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| Almost got cut off when they closed the gate
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| Just in time, what will I say?
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| Time to explain this unruly mess I’ve made |