| They talk to me over ten at a time
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| I'm in balance
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| I have flashes in my head like the murder scene (Ah)
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| Gravity on 180 beats
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| The base sings
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| My skills are 360 ° flips on a ramp
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| Skater, writer
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| Street brawls Olbia city Street Fighter
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| Toxic on the benches, I swallow thorns, I write without an end
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| I consume and smoke buds while I wait for the mornings (Hey)
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| I disappear so that you forget me
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| And everything looks out of place except my mess
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| It is a circle where fate decides everything
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| It is a circus where no one laughs, these clowns run their makeup
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| It unnerves me, if I sing, whoever observes
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| I make a massacre of grass like the massacre of the Grass
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| I am in pieces, I look at the dawn, eyes circled like pandas
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| Am I drunk or is my car skidding?
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| As if I cared
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| I would like fire to come out of these crates
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| The masses are burned at the stake
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| A pogo of bodies on fire
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| I'm here smoking Grace's weed
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| And I rap on the drum'n'bass
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| White eyes, overdose at twelve o'clock
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| From the age of thirteen I have been describing and seeing through things
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| I speak little because I know that there is no agreement
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| When I write I beat time with my foot like someone who is waiting
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| I disappear so that you forget me
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| And everything looks out of place except my mess
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| I disappear so that you forget me
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| And everything looks out of place except my mess
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| It all seems fucking insecure
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| I speak for those who do not have enough voice to send you to fuck up (Aahhh!)
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| Italy and its music of hers for hysterical queers
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| If my voice is in your pc, it sprays blood from the peripherals
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| Street jungle on the shoulders a ghetto blaster
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| I make more movies in my head than a fucking Block Buster
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| And tell me how is it? |
| Tell me how is it that you don't fuck with me?
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| They play with their cards face up, no one understands that I have a twenty-one black jack in my hand
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| (How is it?) Who infamous you and then rob you?
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| (How is it?) It's a circle where things don't square
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| (How is it?) And you know what it is, what it is: that you are with me or against me
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| With me or against me
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| If Death rings now, let me introduce myself
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| This shit opens your eyes like a voice that wakes up from a coma (Ah)
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| I'm not alive, the reason? |
| I write under sedation
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| I have a white face and I get lost between papers and White Widow
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| I walk on wires under tension
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| I write about how often my every verse goes through people
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| If I close my eyes I see you you will do the same
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| Forgive your enemies and never forget my name
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| Salmonleboonn |