| While taking deep, slow breaths I try to grow wings
|
| Decided to stay low, the halo was a smoke ring
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| Fell around my neck, I started choking
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| My soul got stuck looking for openings
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| I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to sing like cage birds
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| If you’re a free broken spirit let the pearly gates burn, baby, burn
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| The muted trumpets in my chest take turns
|
| When I release to spit valves gag on Gabe’s germs
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| Some of this is fiction written all across it
|
| But this bathroom lid and I’m too busy spitting in a faucet
|
| Shitting blood thinking of the quickest drug to heal me
|
| But I’m not lovesick, your sick idea of love would kill me
|
| Time to pry open the truth
|
| Apply pliers to my own broken tooth
|
| DIY or die, no health care benefits
|
| You could spare me the ‘'I know, I’ve been there'‘ sentiments
|
| I sense a sentimental song coming along, run along
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| Before I ask you to dance and all you get is trampled on upon faces
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| Mainly my own though, I’ve lost patience
|
| I’m painting over old photos, I’m new now
|
| Fresh out the box all bloody
|
| Somebody cut me loose, slap me, call me ugly
|
| Say it how you see it, buddy, I’m a hurting hot mess
|
| A constantly inconsistent work in progress
|
| Fat girl in a prom dress, do more, talk less
|
| They wanna assassinate your character content
|
| When pressed like ab-workouts, super thin
|
| The whitest looking Jew screaming '‘Jerusalem''
|
| (Got my ID ready)
|
| Who are they?
|
| They are the identity thieves
|
| (Got my ID ready)
|
| Who are they?
|
| They speak war and pretend that it’s peace
|
| (Got my ID ready)
|
| Who are they?
|
| They are killers by association
|
| (Got my ID ready)
|
| Who are they?
|
| They’ll hurt your credits with misappropriation
|
| You can’t just get comfy and stand in one spot
|
| Like a king of the mountain you’ve been planted on top
|
| Surveying the land of your family plot
|
| ‘Til it’s all been abandoned, you’re the man 'til you’re not
|
| It happens like that when you rest on your laurels
|
| Like a shot to your back, it’ll mess with your morals
|
| It’s a matter of fact I’ve consulted with oracles
|
| Precaution of a shaman who was dressed so informal
|
| I’m a poor man with cash making points with no fingers
|
| Bringing popular back 'till the smell of sex lingers
|
| Hard bodies will stack more neatly and tidy
|
| But I swallowed her visions, now she sees inside me
|
| She-devil so chiesty, deceptive and sexy
|
| Walk with me, I’ll give your legs epilepsy
|
| My game is so shaky, if you love pain but hate me
|
| That’s a paradox I’m unable to explain
|
| Conspiracy exposed, it’s the way in which we fold the bill
|
| Trying to overdose, instead you just choke on your pills
|
| It’s overkill if you’re just going for thrills
|
| Seek a mountain you can punch good, expose into molehills
|
| I’ve done this yoddle ever since I was a child
|
| I’ve got this other yoddle I ain’t done in a while
|
| It goes pure Himalayan intelligence
|
| Braving the elements from a man cave and haven’t shaved ever since
|
| Never forget, you were the sperm that made it
|
| Plus the unexpected pregnancy could have been terminated
|
| So thanks to chance, and romance, and dancing
|
| We’re headed to our own damn thing, prepare kid
|
| Why you think I let you get away with doing radio-friendly versions of what I
|
| do?
|
| I wouldn’t chide you, out perform, out write, and out rhyme you
|
| Outsmart, out heart, and out grind you
|
| Out shine you with the torch that was given to me
|
| Torches and I’ll pass it to bastards of the little league
|
| If rap was a game you’d be M.V.P
|
| Most Valued Puppet of this industry
|
| Get your I. D, Independent? |
| Fuck you! |