| Yo, this is: a fat white kid
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| Crip walking through a Wal-Mart eating a Twix
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| This is: his mom in the next aisle
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| Neglecting him while sending a text
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| This is: a mirror to society
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| I already seen the truth so you don’t gotta lie to me
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| This is: a skull behind a smiley face
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| The dark side that we all try to hide away
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| Join me as we open on a heavy set bride as she cries on her wedding dress
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| Cheeks getting wet ‘cause there’s something she would never guess
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| Better yet, zoom in on the bride’s maid
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| She fucked the groom five ways in the bride’s drive way (No way)
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| Fast forward to the bride’s suicide
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| I know a lot of sad adjectives and all of them apply
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| It’s fucked up, because she suffered then she dies
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| But for this woman it was just tougher to be alive
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| If you rewind, you’ll see that there were other issues
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| In her bedroom clutching on a chunk of tissues
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| At nine, got touched by her Uncle Mitchell
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| It’s a cold world, darker than some pumpernickel
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| And I’m not tryin' to bum you out or make you sad
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| I just think somebody ought to state the facts
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| It’s cool, they don’t even hear half the raps
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| Working on their swag, let me tell you buddy:
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| This is: a fat white kid
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| Crip walking through a Wal-Mart eating a twix
|
| This is: his mom in the next aisle
|
| Neglecting him while sending a text
|
| This is: a mirror to society
|
| I’ve already seen the truth so you don’t gotta lie to me
|
| This is: a skull behind a smiley face
|
| The dark side that we all try to hide away
|
| The next scene opens in a parking lot outside an old motel
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| With the neon glowing as the rain drops fell
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| Both from the sky and the eyes of the passengers
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| Inside a ride that arrived, the inhabitants:
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| A mother and her three kids, runnin'
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| From a new husband who seemed to scream more than love 'em
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| Tonight, he said he’d burn the house down, kicked in the cupboard
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| They slipped out the back, undiscovered
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| She said they’d get a hotel room and a pizza
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| Watch TV, and take a breather
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| She went into the lobby and returned sick
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| She’d left her purse at the crib
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| Hair matted to her face as the rain poured
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| Her kids huddled with her, slithered to the back door
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| And I’m not kiddin'
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| He was sittin' in the kitchen, waiting to start hittin'
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| This is: what she won’t say
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| When you ask «how's it going,» the very next day
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| This is: her kids doing well
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| In school even though at home, life was Hell
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| This is: a mirror to society
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| I’ve already seen the truth, you don’t gotta lie to me
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| This is: a skull behind a smiley face
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| The dark side that we all try to hide away |