| Jesus is the savior, tell him what you want
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| Call him on the main line, tell him what you want
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| Jesus is the savior, tell him what you want
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| What you want, what you want, what you want
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| If you want salvation, tell him what you want
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| Call him on the main line, tell him what you want
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| If you want salvation, tell him what you want
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| What you want, what you want, what you want
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| Twenty-four/seven, three sixty-five
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| Twenty-five years, embedded in these lines
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| If I push the pen past the margin on the side
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| You can feel the words and every part of 'em is I
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| Twenty-four/seven, three sixty-five
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| Twenty-five years, embedded in these lines
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| If I push the pen past the margin on the side
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| You can feel the words and every part of 'em is I
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| (Salvation)
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| So I push it to the far right
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| The bare minimum, overseein the far sight
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| I’m clear into 'em, no belief in the far height
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| Conversatin' with Lucifer under God’s light
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| Low when I’m kickin it, caught myself whisperin
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| Coverin my mouth, so if you look you can’t figure it
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| Knowin that he read it but I still be pretendin it
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| Knowin I regret it but I still put my fist in it
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| Waited on a long run
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| From the same places that they all from
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| First name basis with the wrong one
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| Still by the end of it, I back and forth wonder who be listenin
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| I don’t second guess it, I’m just visionin
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| Pardon my inquisitive
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| Saw the other hand and wanted the upper hand but ain’t agree with the grip on it
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| You see the hardest thing I ever had to do
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| Was determine what I could and what I couldn’t tell to you
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| If it’s worth it, then I’m good and I’m good to get it through
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| But if it’s not, then I’m just workin to pursue a pedestal
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| And off top, I could show 'em the end reel
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| It’s hard to really chill or sit still
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| Commit to the page
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| I write a rhyme, sometimes I won’t finish for days
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| Cause before I get to finish, all the imagery change
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| But the game is the same along with the Bodeg'
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| Next to the liquor store where all of the hope lays
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| I mean, the Arthur Agees could bypass the baggies
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| But the common goal is drop hoops in broad day
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| So you play the hallway, with your heart on your sleeve
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| And the walls is like a car to the beat, follow leads
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| I mean, the temp got you walkin before you get up
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| And the wrath of it’ll put you anywhere that you want
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| You see from behind the crowd
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| And even your dreams get to see from behind the clouds
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| But speakin is not allowed
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| Mama said peace when she see that you out of bounds
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| Her sight’s good but her believin is by the ground
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| And so she kneeled down, hands folded in unison
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| Her cares in the air, tryin to follow the truth in it
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| +Tears For Fears+ and +The World+ He +Rulin+ In
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| Burner under the pillow, you don’t sleep if you usin it
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| I call it like I see it
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| And if ever the call fails, I redial, call and hope you receive it
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| By unanimous decision, all of 'em's tellin me
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| That it’s me that could paint true Brooklyn like Shelton Lee
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| I ain’t aim to make a classic, I aim to state what happens
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| And if the outcome gets praised, then blame the havoc
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| If the outcome gets praised, then blame the tragic
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| Cause everything I pen is a mirror of your reactions
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| And everywhere I’ve been is mirrored within the absence
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| Where they four five through the static
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| They say that the habits is head strong
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| And the more that it’s pressed on
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| The deeper you indulge and I could be dead wrong
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| But if I end up gettin any of this right
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| There shouldn’t be anything left to write, right? |
| So |