| Doctor, doctor, give me the news
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| I’m a hostage, hostage to women and booze
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| And my posture’s awkward from getting abused
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| By these gods and monsters that spit in my food
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| I don’t care about the numbers that you gon' do
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| This is music, motherfucker, not sudoku
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| They say that life’s a bitch like Cujo’s boo
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| So I have her in the kitchen mixing culo stew
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| And I dare you to test-drive these two old shoes
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| Every minute there’s some shit I’ve got to sumo through
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| On some Yokozuna to these no-show losers
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| Like a Tone Loc tune, i’m gonna lose my cool
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| And I’ve been up and down this U.S. of A-holes
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| And given each one a different reason to hate Soul
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| You thought it was trans fats or maybe the NASDAQ
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| Nah, it’s an honest man making your hands clap
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| «Nothin'
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| You say»
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| (Repeats x4)
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| Now for my next trick I will remove my limbs
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| And make them levitate through the use of hymns
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| I’ll have them pour me out a cup of juice and gin
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| And let them loose to execute their ruthless whims
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| On the Disney imagery that we’ve known
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| Give me liberty or give me dome
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| That ain’t fair (Why?) Cause I need both
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| I heard freedom’s fly, but she don’t deepthroat
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| But is it chauvinism if I just blow my wisdom
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| In the throat of women that I support? |
| and listen
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| It ain’t like a little protein shake
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| Is gonna do shit to flip Roe v. Wade
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| (So whatcha want, Soul?) Thick thighs on the pole
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| (So whatcha want, Soul?) A little self control
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| (So whatcha want, Soul?) No more Sean Bells
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| And my name up in flames, S-O-U-L |