| Who the fuck you think you are walking like a superstar
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| Squawking like you knew the part but you have got obtuse and lost (yeah)
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| That chain is like a shiny noose you bought
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| It matches with the newer car you’ve got to hide the bruise and scars
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| You claim to be the king of hearts but never drew the card
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| You can buy your liqour but can’t drink up with your stupid talk
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| Yeah you think you’re fly, you’re hot inside a few salons
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| But your parachute is gone, this is where the music stops
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| Kristoff Krane
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| Who the fuck you think you are walking like a superstar
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| Past life burnt out — this is where the future starts
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| Pseudo art will no longer be sold at the supermarket
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| To define the poison’s like the blood that flows through Lucifer
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| Who you are, just a blemish, claiming you’re a beauty mark
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| My territory like Medusa — eight snakes through your heart (yeah)
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| I mean the snakes ate through your heart
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| Soft spots exposed every time you try to prove you’re hard |