| Slightly schizophrenic borderline psychotic
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| Sensational recreational narcotics
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| I thought I lost it but I found it
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| Temptation marches along till I’m surrounded
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| Inspired by fire the sensual illusion
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| Caught between the crossfire anger and confusion
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| Howl at the moon black blanket that’s starlit
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| Im rarely romantic plowing through tramps and harlots madchild prevails tails
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| of the unwanted
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| Not to be taken for granted
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| My past has come back and haunted for real
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| I’ve all ready danced with death. |
| a dozen black roses
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| I pose with babies breath
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| Be afraid a place where magic is made
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| I’ll rain on your parade with silver razor blades
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| I’m creepin over the fence crawlin through your back yard
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| My mind states intense
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| Savage penetration on the rocks with a twist
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| Now scream and shake your fists
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| Cause dreams are made of this
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| For real the opposite transmit telepathic
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| Roamin' the flats with automatics and back packs
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| Doin' jacks for Big Macs, accumulatin' stacks to make G’s Nigga please,
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| you artificial
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| You dropped somethin', it’s your heart
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| An' it’s still pumpin', pumpin' you from this existence
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| It seems to be absolutely mandatory, cuz you be manipulatin' skin
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| But no way, because you fake I can trace out your image
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| Even though you don’t cast one, I smell a rat, I’m smellin' that
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| Stay back at least 150 inches
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| You brew tea? |
| an I know you know I can sense it
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| With the nostrils innocently mixed with 6 hostile stenches
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| Henceforth the elbow swings dinging, we bring whip to bleed scalps
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| Swingin' sleep out your mouth
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| How long you been hibernatin'? |
| Too long!
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| You’re abiding and aiding a felon, to switch your melon
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| Droppin' grammar like a judges hammer
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| I feel you mark, feel me feel your chart
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| You gotta be real an you gotta to have heart
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| You gotta to be real an you gots to have heart
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| Stir the blur, nuts and bolts whirl
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| Stored in electric ports, 4 strong boxes of 10 floors
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| Shift the weight towards the door, in hopes of escape
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| When hands on cord, the blazing roof Prev creates
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| Sound break, concord, eye of the condor
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| Hand skills of a saboteur, your in for
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| A war that pours coarse of molten into cords
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| Strung by the young ones, put me on tour
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| No folk lore horsemen for poison, pour in skin pores
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| Soft rhymers, metamorphize their cartoon characters
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| Grafted from Africa, in this game you got no stature
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| Not even a factor in this
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| Whole shit makes me yawn
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| Snatch your heart out your chest like a '96 ghetto spawn
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| Antonym of urban, too feminine for this cut-throat mentality
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| Have? |
| thoughts in my area, you get snatched out your Suburban
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| Fallacy with no antidote, in this? |
| your age get broke
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| Runnin' from gun smoke, ballin' never rumin'
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| Silver spoons crumbin' from flavour
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| Soon there will be no overseer to save ya
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| When I delve, tell your podiatrist it’s a size 12
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| National? |
| Soldiers, leakin' a swine
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| A snake with no spine, I’ll see you, I peeped you
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| You’ll see blue, the fake:
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| A quick death is your fate
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| Now, I got shit to do |