| This ain’t rap call it carpentry
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| Blades sharp enough to cut carpet, I’m sticking to the paper
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| No cupcakes, I’m awkward, leave 'em all in awe
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| And all in all it went well, Tylenol for the swelling
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| Midol, you butter soft rappers, fucking with a Dewalt miter saw
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| You might of saw me on the bulleting
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| Bullet fragments, metallic pieces in my thesis
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| Ultra violet rays, riesling, private beaches
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| We extra violent, rush ya like Moscow
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| The scowl on my face, no scare tactic, warning
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| I’m warming up some leftovers, I’m Jeffrey Dahmer
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| My apartment gotta step over, some body parts scattered
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| Careers here and there, the dream shatterer
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| Pop that like Adderall, parallel parking
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| Stay in shape like a parallelogram, hella sharpened
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| Hoes throughout the spectrum, prefer my liquor darkened
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| Bitches obey me like a collie, no flea collar
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| Ready for the melancholy, I’m jotting down
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| A downtrodden rotten ridicule, the rude shrewdness
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| Rapper niggas minuscule, no comparison
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| I stay Strapped my advantage
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| Flipping like Bamboo, «That ain’t the same sandwich!»
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| Bokeem Woodbine with mine when I combine minds
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| With the Alchemist, burning like turpentine, no sacrilege
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| True Religion |