| When you first get it it’s shining and sparkling
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| You hold it high like a trophy and start targeting
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| What you gonna use it on?
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| Where does it belong and for how long?
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| You can barely sleep and when you wake you hope it isn’t gone
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| For it’s still livin'
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| At the very least you’re given energy and a lot of it you’re drivin'
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| You wrap it in a ribbon and you look at it all day
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| You hook it up in a way that with it you can play
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| Regardless of anything else it isn’t yourself
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| Seen in a reflection it’s a super-clean resurection of your better half
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| Measure that and multiply it
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| Hope to buy it and treat it as good as how much you think you need it
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| I bet later you won’t feed it like my puppy
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| And leave it in the gutter for some other to think he’s lucky
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| But of course you broke it cause you had no patience with it
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| Probably didn’t deserve it in this life time but you lived it
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| Now what do you know now?
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| Can you recall and recognize how it goes down when it does?
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| (does.does.does.)
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| How many times have you had a pair of clean nikes?
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| And scuffed 'em up hella bad, kinda like these?
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| On my feet, man, I used to fucking clean 'em
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| Toothbrush and everything
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| Now I’m just mean to 'em
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| Seen so many waste away what they had it makes me mad
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| But they never know 'till it’s too late to appreciate and be glad
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| Seems like the ones with nothing are the ones who put in work
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| And use what they have to get where they’re going showing the jerks
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| Leaving them wishin they would have thought of that or just said it
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| Had it embedded in their minds now they regret it
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| Let it sink in and get to thinking about what you got
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| How you can freak it or treat it right so you don’t experience a loss later
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| Whether it’s a cross fader, girlfriend or a thought
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| When you’re mind is in a whirlwind you better remember to stop
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| And smell the roses between dozin
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| Cause for every breath you take upon this planet you’re one of the chosen
|
| How many times have you had a pair of clean nikes?
|
| And scuffed 'em up hella bad, kinda like these
|
| On my feet, man, I used to fucking clean 'em
|
| Toothbrush and everything
|
| But now I’m just mean to 'em
|
| At what point was this ok?
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| I gotta ask myself (self?)
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| Let me retrace my steps
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| Will I surpass myself?
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| Or am I destined to be lazy?
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| Because honestly, lately, I really just don’t amaze me
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| It drives me crazy cause I’m searchin'
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| Constantly getting shit then throwing it away thinkin' I’m workin
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| Really I know the answers but they hurtin'
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| Covering curtains over my problems so they worsen
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| Drinkin and cursin invades my person it becomes urgent
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| Sometimes I can’t live it but I can word it
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| And that’s my therapy so dear to me and I know this
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| But often it’s too hard to keep my focus
|
| How many times have you had a pair of clean nikes?
|
| And scuffed 'em up hella bad, kinda like these?
|
| On my feet, man, I used to fucking clean 'em
|
| Toothbrush and everything
|
| Now I’m just mean to 'em
|
| Now I’m just mean to 'em
|
| Fuck 'em.
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| Up in this. |
| creek.
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| Scratched in background
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| (and I ain’t talkin 'bout sneakers neither.) |