| I’m all outside with my stress
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| Something on fire but they left to the west
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| I’ve been turning in my pain Arizona paranoia
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| I don’t know whats real I don’t know about love
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| I’ma blemish turncoat powder of my people with a ash flesh
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| Power no hope by the needle and I stretch
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| Armstrong leave me in the sun so I crack and you have both arms for your fun
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| I was blowing out my walls
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| Neon green lasers some white kids puddled as some fan boys later in a massed
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| out gang lame and uncultured in a rapey vibe talking bout fucking out her eyes.
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| am I way to? |
| gone to be fond of the non checked dancing in a puddle of my
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| blood til I’m on deck
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| My palms have holes
|
| From the rope
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| Plains from my mouth when I choke
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| Rage in my chest
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| Peaking out waves and I’m def
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| I’m a old west slang what is left
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| Burned in the dirt buried in the dirt but I’m napalm a colorful flame but
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| I don’t burn for you
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| The OG sway in the swill
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| With emojis fangs blown planes in the field
|
| People don’t fuck if it’s real where the lights
|
| At put it with the pain and the pills
|
| Imitate blank in the hills
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| Where the eyes shut meditate shanked in the feels
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| I’ve got no world where its billed
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| I don’t that fit that girl
|
| Been outside for a minute
|
| This ain’t even dreaming power to the fist
|
| Healing like I’ve barely felt screaming in the wind
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| With a crop top blaring from the hairs on my chin
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| When they look
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| There shook scared as some motherfucks calling out our worn slave numbers we
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| ain’t getting getting up
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| The elephant tusk that I bump round the wrist keeps me limping for the break of
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| my bitch like…
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| Came from the border and I’m still alive way too death where my flag ???
|
| Uh
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| Paint all monochrome slain by the plain clothes pain that arrange where the
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| buried go
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| My people barely touch anything hands to the mass
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| Fuck up the class
|
| Carried by vultures blocked by the trap
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| Women like me
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| I don’t burn for you |