| Pardon my Bohemian ways
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| I know I act like I be stuck in a Bohemian daze
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| You said you love me, so don’t rush me
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| Love is patient and now you gotta trust me
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| To take form, like the canvas of the Grand Canyon
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| Product of a beautiful storm or an unborn
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| Carried just below the heart
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| Quietly preparing for his start
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| Let me Michelangelo my Sistine Chapel
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| You know they say Rome wasn’t built in a day
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| And diamonds need a while before they hit the display
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| So I guess I see myself in a similar way
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| I’m paced, like my momma in the kitchen whipping
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| Always mixing up and fixing
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| Begged her for a taste and she said it wasn’t ready
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| She stir it up slow and she cook it up steady
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| This is not a race track, living in the ASAP
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| I’m just trying to do it justice when it play back
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| Sometimes I gotta stall the BPM
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| So I can weave these dreams and polish up these gems
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| In the end, I got love for the show biz
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| But sometimes you gotta stop and smell the roses
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| Keeping up with the Kardashians and Joneses
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| Nah, I take my time and compose this
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| They say greatness get better with time
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| They say concrete roses hard to find
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| Sit inside my room, and let these thoughts bloom
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| It’s a secret garden in my mind
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| Flower child
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| Okay, buffering, creativity suffering
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| When you bustlin' hustlin' for the numbers and
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| You missed the journey if you climbed too fast
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| The beauty of the struggle when it comes to pass
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| Amateurs swear they need a balancer
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| I want that legendary like excalibur
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| Chasing calibers liberated as a bachelor
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| Traveler, never falling victim to these calendars
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| Rough draft after rough draft
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| No staff, perfecting on my abstract craft
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| And now they calling me celebrity
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| Only thing I give a damn about is my integrity
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| They play the game like checkers when I’m talking bout chess
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| Tryna do more when I’m talking bout less, I stress
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| Quantity ain’t always quality
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| So let me formulate my prophecy
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| When the lights get low and you notice I am the sun
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| The winter time was snow but only little you know
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| I will still breathe, give me the keys
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| I’m resuscitating the game, see me in CPR
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| My name is a gun cocked, gun shot
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| Dead and I won’t stop
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| Gun cocked, gun shot
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| Head in a pine box
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| With a dozen roses, hold this with a gift card
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| Gun cocked, gun shot
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| Flowers on your momma’s yard
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| They say greatness get better with time
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| They say concrete roses hard to find
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| Sit inside my room, and let these thoughts bloom
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| It’s a secret garden in my mind
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| Flower child
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| They say greatness gets better with time
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| So why expedite my prime?
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| See I’m just a lilac tied to the earth
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| Exuding the fragrance of light and birth
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| So respect my photosynthesis
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| My petals, my stems, full of nourishing flow
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| You thought this was a love song, but no
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| I just need you to let me grow |