| Well this time I got a different grudge
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| Like a hit man with a list that’s written in blood
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| I understand the man sam kinison was
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| Infuriated by the things these idiots love
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| I used to never lace my timberlands up
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| Til I stumbled down to reality with a sickening thud
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| My nose bloody, nobody giving a fuck
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| And the stars silent like I wasn’t wishing enough
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| Opportunity’s a stripper, you can tip her a buck
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| But without the scrilla, no permission to touch
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| This is the kind of drum line that reminds me of group home
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| Nodding while I’m polishing a pile of chewed bones
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| This ain’t the battle rapper with the file that you know
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| Soul about to turn your oldest child to juno
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| Astounded I’m allowed within a mile of school zones
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| I’m not a stick in the mud, I am your tombstone
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| Hook:
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| This is the voice that made a frightened boy into a man
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| This is the voice that led her to me so we’d join in hands
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| This is the voice that creates violence or slays tyrants
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| And taken me as far as any voyage can
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| Soul Khan
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| I take the blunt approach as if I was under oath
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| Got my balls and my word, shorty you can suck 'em both
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| Buck 'em with a thunderbolt and funnel coke
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| Into any hipster honey hungry with a scummy throat
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| That’s outlandish, but damn it if I’m wifing 'em though
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| Had a true love, but truth was, my mind couldn’t hold
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| Enough space for her and music, wouldn’t let it turn abusive
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| Sort of like a castration, had to lighten the load
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| What, am I supposed to wave and bow
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| For the little paper that I’m making now?
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| Hold on just a second while I take account
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| Of the costs and benefits, while I fondly reminisce, of dreams of eating geena
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| davis out
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| I developed in a cellar like I’m sloth fratelli
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| Now I’m elegant as pegasuses on pirellis
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| I prefer to Kill a Mockingbird to Machiavelli
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| So that explains why this kid’s the sickest, yo, I’m sorry, telly
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| Hook |