| Mama always said I was a space cadet
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| That I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached
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| Thank God I was touched with the vision of rap
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| 'Cause I still ain’t got the patience yet
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| To deal with the truth because the truth is sickening
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| So I just leave the pigs in the pigpen
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| I’m sure the devil’s got him a big grin
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| Watching my head spin with moral afflictions
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Uh, yeah, fresh as fuck in Atlanta
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| Clique look like a pack of zebras with the Dixie banners
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| Mossy Oak from ankle to throat, mind your manners
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| Pocket full of lures but I ain’t catching fish, I’m catching bitches from the
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| sewer, yeah, I played in it
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| Skipping, jumping rope, and jumping fences
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| And jumping off of bridges
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| Jump out the whip and then knock your door off your fucking hinges
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| Playground full of syringes (Yeah)
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| Greyhound bus, twenty-two pound, send it (Yeah)
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| Greyhound route, two hundred miles, end it
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| Chattanooga to Nashville
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| I watched more cash build through kids hands than a Disney flick
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| He was fifteen with half a mil'
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| Any y’all can’t, the panties drop, dope game, fuck
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| Couple of suicides 'cause they couldn’t pay the plug
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| When little Jay died, I remember the day it was
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| Like a shock that it became just the way it was
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| That’s a sad reality dealing with casualties
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| Like it’s an average thing, as it life was meant to be battled
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| We rattled the snake, took off the brakes of an 18-wheeler
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| And D.U.I. |
| through it casually, survived it, how did we?
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| Mama always said I was a space cadet
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| That I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached
|
| Thank God I was touched with the vision of rap
|
| 'Cause I still ain’t got the patience yet
|
| To deal with the truth because the truth is sickening
|
| So I just leave the pigs in the pigpen
|
| I’m sure the devil’s got him a big grin
|
| Watching my head spin with moral afflictions
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Nirvana, had 'em dancing with Mr. Brownstone
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| Guns followed by roses laid on the gravestone
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| C’est la vie, baby is now gone
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| Baby ain’t hurting but the streets is covered in tears
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| Leaving these mothers here to grieve, ain’t no subtle fear
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| It’s obvious and aware, the robbery of a pair
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| Two brothers’ll darken a fairy tale, uh
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| Ain’t it something?
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| That boy wouldn’t hurt a fly, he wouldn’t paint a pumpkin
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| Now he’s a maniac, pack of serrated blades
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| Carvin' his name into his skin in a perverted way
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| Went from a chicken to a bird of prey
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| Went from a spark in the kitchen to an uncontrollable flame
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| That fully auto was tame, now it’s reloaded, cocked, and aimed
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| He picked up the poison when he picked up the loose change
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| That’s what the karma is for dropping chains
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| A penny for your thoughts
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| How many can you spend before you go insane?
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| Life is a bitch, man
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| To drive you crazy 'til you take the wheel and switch lanes
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| Or you could make your deal and take a pill for this pain
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| But the only thing you will conceal is shame, is shame
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| Mama always said I was a space cadet
|
| That I would lose my head if it wasn’t attached
|
| Thank God I was touched with the vision of rap
|
| 'Cause I still ain’t got the patience yet
|
| To deal with the truth because the truth is sickening
|
| So I just leave the pigs in the pigpen
|
| I’m sure the devil’s got him a big grin
|
| Watching my head spin with moral afflictions
|
| Addiction
|
| Addiction
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| Addiction
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| Addiction |