| New self he just wanna be a whole person
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| Old self found cursing him for soul searching
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| Other self writing poems on how the world hurt him
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| Too close to home he gotta hold it down in third person
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| Now who’s the first person I’m saying I Am
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| Give me a second and you will know why I’m dammed
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| It’s in the record our youth and every blind hand
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| Our recollection of truth within our time span
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| Cus when you add am you just attach you
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| Build a bank, build a church, build a statue
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| Build up rank, Bilderberg, fill up that shoe
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| With one foot in the grave is how it has you
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| The one you couldn’t save now how is that true
|
| No one stood in the way of having that fruit
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| It’s 11:28 I mean in Matthew
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| They say we gotta go back
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| But what we got to go back too
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| Today
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| I used to say that by the age of 31 I’ll be long
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| Long gone from here, far away from the year
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| That I decided I would live a live a life divided and clear
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| Of any threat or danger aiming at my life or career
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| Some call it fear and a prison I barely fit in It’s true
|
| Who am I kidding I’ve been hiding in my tiny igloo
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| Outside it’s frigid, but it’s life, and I ain’t living it right
|
| Without some cuts and bruises
|
| I blew a life with Susan, I was afraid of moving
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| Too fast, and out of a situation that I was cool with
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| Now maybe I should do it, but now she’s married stupid
|
| Blame it on being young timid or maybe clueless
|
| But 31 came and went with very little improvement
|
| What am I left to do with the rest of my time breathing
|
| I’m leaving Las Vegas without a gamble I’m breaking even
|
| I kept the dice and this seven eleven that I’m squeezing
|
| Got me thinking of dreaming
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| Or Dreaming, of leavin
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| Today
|
| Yeah this got a nice sound
|
| And this is real life not a lifestyle brand
|
| No nikes — I’mma just do it
|
| Right now
|
| Im in the booth
|
| And it’s kinda like a fight how
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| Im saying hit me with the beat up
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| Knock the lights out
|
| I fight doubts like bouts
|
| Spitting live rounds
|
| No grill and still what comes out the guy’s mouth
|
| Is brilliant as the rings on a king or a viscount
|
| Im feeling like a million
|
| Little children singing
|
| In the building when
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| My quill pen is spillin
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| In the moment not beholden to past
|
| Gotta let it go
|
| Not talking forever-ever cuz ya never know
|
| And life ain’t a bed of roses, it’s a ebb and flow
|
| And one spectacular spectacle
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| Til youre head to toe medically deaded
|
| Bless the show til the credits rolls
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| Check it: procussions/shad k make the record dope |