| We’re livin' in extreme days
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| Comin' at ya like a whirlwind
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| A hundred miles an hour’s where we’ll begin
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| I spy the eye of apprehension
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| Show me risk and you’ll get my attention
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| Come on, can ya take it
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| Bang to the bip I make ya wanna flip
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| Take my trip and you can bust your lip
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| I never fear 'cause I live fearless
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| Don’t even think for a second you can get with this
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| Come on, I never fake it, come on
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| These are extreme, extreme days
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| We’re livin' in extreme days
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| These are extreme, extreme days
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| We’re livin' in extreme days
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| I’m a freak from the burbs of the chocolate city
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| Luther Jackson was my middle
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| Pine Ridge my elementary
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| School of hip hop 1979
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| And Sugar Hill had the skills that taught me to rhyme
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| Got hip to Kiss and I tripped on Zeppelin
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| So Mr. Therapist, «Why did I go this direction?»
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| God had a plan to end all my schemes
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| I had a dream He said to be … extreme
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| Just the other day I saw a kid
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| Who flipped his hat to the back and he called it a lid
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| You know what else he did?
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| He stacked books from the floor to ceiling
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| Said somethin' bout trying to get to heaven
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| And he was only eleven
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| So he climbed to the top with outstretched arms
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| And he screamed at the top of his lungs
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| Move out my way
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| Give up the mic
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| «X"to me is extremely Christ
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| Livin up in me
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| Like it or not
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| Put an «X"on my chest
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| 'Cause X marks the spot |