| Heaven, have mercy on the hypnic jerk you blame for your speech
|
| Walk around the block again
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| Wait 'til I feel cool and straight
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| With a diaristic bent on undertaking
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| Careful, steady
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| Are we steady?
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| Cruel and ready
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| I’m not bossy, I’m the boss
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| Shooter, not the shot
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| On the tip and fit to execute
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| I’m chief, not the overthrown
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| Captain, not a crony
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| So if you wanna row, you better have an awfully big boat
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| Holding a package from a total stranger who claims to know me
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| Naw, you never knew me, man, not even a fraction
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| You just glimpsed your own reflection in a gold sheen
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| I’m not bossy, I’m the boss
|
| Shooter, not the shot
|
| Well-composed with keys to raise the skate
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| I’m chief, not the overthrown
|
| Captain, not a crony
|
| So if you wanna throw, you better have an awfully big stone
|
| We could hang out for the summer while you wait for your girl
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| Dip a toe 'til it’s soaked and freezing
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| But just because I let you kill time dangling me from the quarry
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| Doesn’t mean that I won’t land on my feet
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| That’s cause I’m the boss
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| Caller of the shots
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| Sutanejo, never spit to me
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| Chief, play my own right hand
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| Not haggish, but the hag
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| How naïve to trample
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| She who’s running from the stampede
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| I’m raising the skate
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| Look, I’m raising the skate |