| She said
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| You would be high too
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| If you had to live the life that I do
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| I view it blindly before he finds me
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| And reminds me of why my eye droops
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| I’m alive cus I’m cute and see these jeans
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| I keep them for the men who love sex with preteens
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| And think I’m mute
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| They invest in these dreams to sink my youth
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| In their sweat
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| In their spit
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| See I’ve been kicked by boots
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| And then left with each hit to sip my truth
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| Alone
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| He said I give these girls a home
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| I teach them how to live in these streets
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| You see the love I’ve shown
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| It keeps the rocks lit feening the cockpit
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| The highlife thinking she’s my wife
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| When she is my profit
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| Just one of three in my pocket
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| And I’m the reason she would die
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| If she lied
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| You see my eye socket she cried
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| He did it with a table leg
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| Whips me with a cable
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| On the days that I’m unable to pay
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| It’s the eyes that betray you
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| They were never your best friends
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| Two liars with the same truth
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| But the touch don’t pretend
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| Promised something glamorous
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| Harnessed by a man they trust
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| Their arms legs and candidness are ours to take advantage of
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| In cars bars and random truck stops in tandem
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| A lush stock for any man copping with a hand of bucks
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| Planted in a land of Bucks they call it manning up
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| To call a girl who can’t stand you up
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| Bandaging a cut brandishing a gun
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| Damaged by the mannish ones
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| Dangerous to those to whom it grows unmanaged
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| It’s the sum of a cruel world
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| Where girls recruit girls
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| And leave them on the corner for the troops
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| Or leave them for the coroner to screw
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| Or the officers who knew and never told their officers the truth
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| The coupe once a coffin to the often lost and stranded
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| Moved into the offices of those we thought upstanding
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| Moved with all the awfulness of bliss when you caught up in the mist
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| Taking hits of the softness you have branded
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| It’s the eyes that betray you
|
| They were never your best friends
|
| Two liars with the same truth
|
| But the touch don’t pretend
|
| It’s a lush world |