| Auditon?
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| Yeah I got this…
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| Yeah I was at your show
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| Yeah… No I mean no I didn’t like it No I’m just saying I was there
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| And a… Doomtree!
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| You suck ha ha ha…
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| Alright… Cecil Otter, P.O.S., Sims
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| Dessa, whatever the fuck she calls herself
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| Paper Tiger, Swedish name for a Japanese punk band
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| Joe Mavin, you look like Alanis Morissette
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| Sometimes I feel like a bastard surrounded by fathers
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| Fasioning themselves to resemble action figures
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| Passing opinions across the pasture like we asked you
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| Like we have to have your last pieces gathered, like it even matters
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| Like we’re trying to climb this ladder a little bit faster
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| Like I’d rather let the captain lead us into disaster (crash)
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| Like the bladder never adapted to laughter
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| Like I won’t be the first rapper thats sent to your plaster casters
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| And after the new dawn is gone
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| My name is Sean, out on a lawn (?)
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| Put my songs in these coupons
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| I lost my soul and watched it drip down her futon
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| I lost my gardens (?) out of a bush that sprouts snook bombs
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| Now I’m looking for a word that don’t exist
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| To help disrout this selfish pride that I hide inside this fist
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| We’ve arrived to loosen up this noose that keeps us lifted
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| And rip these stictches while I introduce this piece of…
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| Yeah stand back (stand back)
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| Let me be the target, let your bullett hit, I’ll handle that
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| Let me see you flex aggressive ignorance, see half these cats
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| Stagger like the simple common sense to put one foot before the other
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| Hop, trip, slip
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| Slid into home base base like you planned rehearse
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| Some kind of celebration dance, you got tagged at first
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| And kept running
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| Jumping the gun for what you got coming
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| Homie no handout’s til’the pitcher hits you
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| Your acting like your stitches rippin'
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| I got nothing but what my crew and open folks are bumpin'
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| Trustin’their trust and feeling bastard for trusting their trust
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| So fuck it, everything else gets tugged under rugs
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| Til’I get something like a crowd of cats mumbling my words
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| Show me some heart, let me tug
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| (Slug: Give me a pound or a hug)
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| Hear the sound like a drug homie
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| Just free-based beats, life’s cheap
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| If you live it right, right?
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| If the words are tight, might
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| Bright the head in the dark, kill the night ride (?)
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| Stand back, no piggy backing with the mad mats
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| A mini apple road warrior give me that hand clap
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| From the hash back to amtrack to aircraft
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| Ransacked every city that the kids be at, the furgomack
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| Jumping hurdles that you carried in your back pack
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| The love curdles at the match books last act
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| Licking the stamps back just for physical flashbacks
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| The times of writing rhymes to get my cats and my plants back
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| They tell me I deserve to be happy, now doesn’t seem valid
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| 'Til we get rid of half of How many are doing nothing but sucking on flavours?
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| I’m try’na edit the credits while their critiquing the trailers
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| So I’mma rant like theres something to say
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| Making up my own dance I’mma do it this way (watch me)
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| And I’mma try and take it all around the world
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| (While I’m out on tour keep your hand off my girl!)
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| Sometimes I feel like the bastard son
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| Oh where the fucks my father
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| Like a shattered shoulder
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| Like the chick got smashed off my class
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| at the door with my shoes and my coat
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| So now I’m here again, I brought the clown, we came to rock the boat
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| I hold you down, you set them up
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| I’ll set the bar and drive around
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| We’ll let your style do the knocking, here’s a pen go to town
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| Paint it with big broad strokes, I’ll study your path
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| And hope your pride can take a joke when I say its dope with earcoats and laugh
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| Man I’m pleased to shit the ass
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| How can I add you up, devide your crew and still be horrible at math?
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| Now answer that and stay fasionable (just try it)
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| Go bash the bricks and stomp them? |
| kid the princess still ain’t at this castle
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| Mr Of Course, the youngster hoarse from screaming on him
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| But shit, I toss the lozange quick and drop my fullbacks (?) on him
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| Turning teens into fiends from the beats to the bear hugs
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| I got the stuff to get some buying up the ear plugs
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| (Close up your ears… Close up your whole face…
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| This will melt your brain… Oozing
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| Oooo no… I wouldn’t go outside looking like that… Ohhh dear…) |