| My head keeps spinnin and spinnin and spinnin
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| I don’t know if this is the end or it’s the beginnin
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| Man I’m losin my mind, I think I’m losin my mind
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| I think I’m losin my mind, I sink deeper try to keep it in line
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| I’m feeling like I wanna die
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| I’m an addict, I’m not talkin 'bout a fuckin marijuana high
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| Fuck the gangster talk, I’ll smash your teeth in with the baby Glock
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| I’m a mental patient spittin crazy talk
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| I’m talented but life’s a balancing act
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| And I am way off of alignment, the payoff isn’t time yet
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| I’m so fuckin broke I’m puttin clothes up for consignment
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| I used to be white lightning
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| Now I’m sittin in a dark cloud, wonderin where my mind went
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| Y’all know where to find me!
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| Behind closed blinds, I’m on my type-a-writer
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| While I watch a spider climbin up the wall
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| To spin a web, and catch a fly and watch him die
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| He sucks all of the blood out of him then I start to cry
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| I don’t know why, I don’t know why he swallowed a fly
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| You’re all gonna die; |
| that’s my only comfort
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| I smashed my iPhone before you get my number
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| … I’m clinically insane, mentally deranged
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| Hangin from a string strangled by a chain…
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| I guess all of the drugs have done a number on my brain
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| Fuck it!
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| Yo I look up in the sky, I see the sun shining
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| So why’s my mind spinning? |
| Arkham Asylum
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| Dark Knight, Ra’s al Ghuls, Scarecrows, Jokers, Riddlers
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| Catwomen and Penguins, Spidey sense is tingling
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| Hobgoblin, Doc Oc, Sandman, and Venom
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| My mind starts to die/dye like it’s indigo denim
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| Time for me to Sean Penn 'em, lose 21 grams
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| It’s the game at close range, I’m the Falcon, he’s the Snowman
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| He’s drinkin down a Pepsi while I’m openin a Coke can
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| My first show in front of ten thousand out at Snow Jam
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| No man, old man, take a look at my life
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| Carve my name in the tree with my own pocket knife
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| Yeah I’m classic Old Spice, you a Spice Girl, +Scary+
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| Selling off my mental property, «Glen Ross Glengarry»
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| And I know it’s around here somewhere on the property buried
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| But I’m plastered like a poster — Obey, Shepard Fairey
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| 6:30 every mornin, is when I get up like Banksy
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| Jet to the studio Mad’s trippin sittin angtsy
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| It’s reality and fantasy but I can’t separate
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| My feet are on the ground so how the fuck my body levitate?
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| In no way is this meant to disrespect my family or God
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| Yeah…
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| Okay seven day coke binge, heroin in tinfoil
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| Heroin in pill form, brain egg hardboiled
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| Mad Child chase dragon, turn into a gargoyle
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| Grade 7 mom took me shopping down at Park Royal
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| This is not the life that I have dreamt about
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| Mentally I’m emptied out, rapping while I vent with a demented mouth
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| Sentimentally my sentiments are printed out
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| Now stick a knife inside me, giving you something to think about
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| Insanity, it’s hereditary, grandma got dementia
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| Grandma tried to kill herself, she’s suffering from depression
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| And Mad Child suffer from depression
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| So am I going to try to kill myself is constantly my question |