| Low soul in a manic
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| Feels so only queen
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| A deep tripe for a wander aimless
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| Just fakes his green
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| Cuz I say no you’re mine
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| And I’m no only nine feed
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| You got a cross confusing my ages
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| Not yet more me
|
| Cuz I say you’re in a ready
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| Bleach-hearted boy wretched voice indeed
|
| A prosthetic you waitin to destroy
|
| Two sides to Dylan’s haw hee
|
| Feeling like a cemetary
|
| Karpick a what is in me
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| A drill a sin try to kill it
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| I sit on a quire haw hee
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| Gettin like a titty single only
|
| A bottom make a cell it’s time to bleed
|
| Tee, la-la hee-hee
|
| Pig try to give it to you
|
| Killin like a hundred an fifteen in
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| Feed Birmingham |