| When I was 12, I got baptized
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| But I’ve been runnin from Heaven since
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| Half the time, I wonder, «Does it even exist?»
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| I constantly cross the line between pleasure and sin
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| I try, but sometimes, it seems I just can’t repent
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| I wonder if my Grandma’s lookin down on me with a frown or a grin
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| Or maybe she’s just dirt in the ground, and that’s how it ends
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| I was so strong in my beliefs as a kid
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| Now it feels wrong though to believe in this
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| It’s been so long since Jesus made me see He exists
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| Why can’t just send one sign, one time?
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| Please, just one line- that’s all I need
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| And then I’m confined and reformed
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| Please, just bend the rules this one time
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| I need more
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| I need to know that you are out there listening
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| I need to know that there is something else
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| I need to know that there is more then glistening
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| I need to know that I’m not by myself
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| That’s what the world wants to hear me say
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| But I know that I’m saved by eternal grace
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| And the day that I get to the pearly gates
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| My grandma’s gonna meet me and say my name
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| The world’s gotten so backwards
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| Everybody roots for you to fail
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| And God’s the last thing that matters (We've got a pulse)
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| No wonder it’s a living Hell! |
| (What's goin on?)
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| Laying on this operating table- it’s impossible to save me
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| And I’m probably fading into the dark
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| Hated for the thoughts that I’m saying
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| I know what confidence waiting
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| And my haters are praying I don’t see tomorrow
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| Cause they know if I don’t make it then I’m not in their way
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| And their journey to the top would be easier to make
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| But secretly they wanna peep into the operating procedure
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| Just to see if there is still a piece of my brain
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| And they can take it, but wouldn’t know what to do with it
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| They’re not creative enough to make the music I did
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| With the same beats, same bars, same rhymes, same flows
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| I would kill em all, but the fuckin' ruined the shit
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| And they’re too stubborn to admit that I’m influencing them
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| Too busy judging me, while I’m making some moves in this bitch
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| Because I’m careful at who I choose who to include in this crypt
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| I’d rather be judged by 12, than be carried by 6
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| So many haters are waiting in the Emergency Room
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| They wanna see the doctor come out and say I’m not pullin through
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| Well, I’m pullin through, and the ER is crowded
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| There’s so much noise but no damn talent
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| I lay down brain dead on the steel table
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| The top of my head’s cut off- it’s no fable
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| My toe tag has got no name label
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| My cold raps were just dang hateful, woo!
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| I think it’s kinda funny- all these muthafuckas are waiting on me to die
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| But even if I die, I’m always livin in your mind
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| My name is Crypt, bitch- I’ve been dead this whole time
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| On the inside, when I’m writing my rhymes, bitch, it feels like I can almost fly
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| But then, I realize no one likes anytime that I spit
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| But fuck it- I keep it real cause it feels right
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| When I write down all of my rhymes
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| No matter what I do, somebody will cry
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| «You're too offensive, you’re non-inclusive»
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| But it’s none of your business how I write my music
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| Stop trynna change me to fit your vision- I won’t do it, I will just refuse it
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| If you don’t like it, then don’t fuckin' listen
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| There’s plenty other people out there that do this
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| No matter what I do, I should’ve zigged when I zagged
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| Everybody tells me, I should try something different
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| But when I do, they tell me that they miss how I rap
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| It’s a catch 22 so, tell me, what’s the difference?
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| If you do what you want, then I won’t like it
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| If I do what I want, then you won’t like it
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| If I do what they want, then no one likes it
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| The only option is to just stay silent! |