One on one
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My thoughts are nicotine
|
headache and aspirin
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One on one
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The lights are off, the DJ has finished his set
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My baseball cap matches the color of the sneaker
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Tyutchev and Fet - these were the poets
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And I'm on the dance floor stripped to the waist
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Ultraviolet highlights, in a pack of whitefish
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If I die, then with a microphone, like with a Viking weapon
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And it's ricky-tiki-tock time, Biggie and Pac
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And if grief from the mind is a bitch, so be it.
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Do you want to rap, fuck, again, or stomp the dance floor?
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My father is a word, well, and rhyme is a mother
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I am a mathematician: poverty taught me to count
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Understand people, black hoodie, and I'm six by five
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Two for 50, after two for 100
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We are slowed down by pots of posts
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Not a bullet fool - a country of fools
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And not every pill here will save you from the shackles
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One on one
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My thoughts are nicotine
|
headache and aspirin
|
One on one
|
One on one - me and my fear of being nobody
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Either a moneymaker or a mannequin
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Either freedom, or captivity, halo, or decay
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Or won, or get up soon from your knees
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One on one with myself, digging unhealed wounds
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It's not easy without it, but without it, there's no need to change, no
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I would score, don't take too long
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I forgot, but tomorrow, yes, it used to be fucked up
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I climbed where people kill life
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And only I alone can send myself down in an instant
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I build lanes under Abra Kadabra, bribing with a voice
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One life, my check, one take toxin
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Me and the whole world one on one
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Tonight the world will sink into Red Bull's bank
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Serotonin will fill the tank of gray everyday life
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All notes by, you play in front of the audience
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Filigree bastards through the screen of laptops
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Here they say - I got on the wrong path
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And circles under the eyes and where to get a lifeline
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Walk the string or walk the tightrope
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Yes, but that path is more like a detonator fuse.
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It's so cool here to be like a robot, a screen, a box
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The computer is comfortable, my computer is like a homie to me
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The game has long cherished ambition, voices say - leave the room
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Give me a reason, give me gunpowder, and I will probably tear the wire
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It's like a fashion card, it's punk rock, it's punk rap
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Like Gang Gog, only soaring up
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Me and flow are a tandem
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This is my personal cartoon dark
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Anatomical one-man theater
|
One on one
|
My thoughts are nicotine
|
headache and aspirin
|
One on one |