| The windows cracked on the Chevrolet
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| My cigarettes in the ash tray
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| The engines off and the radio’s down
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| So nervous my whole body shakes
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| The parking lot’s full of people and
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| They ready to see the preacher man
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| Time to open up for the main act
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| I guess that makes me a deacon
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| I promise that I won’t let me down
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| And check myself in the mirror one time
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| Say my prayer and then I sip the Crown
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| Light another smoke and step outside
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| Walk inside and take a look around
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| As I try to remember all of my lines
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| Guess it’s time for me to face the crowd
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| And give the people my time
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| These people standing on front row
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| Tryna see through me like a window
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| I’m wearing my soul on my sleeve
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| But they look at me through a pin hole
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| All I see is this opportunity
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| To see at least one of you in me
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| But I can’t seem to win 'em over so
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| I swallow the humility
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| Fifteen minutes to hold 'em down
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| And I’m just wishing that it would fly by
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| It’s like my whole world hits the ground
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| All I wanted to do is have a good time
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| Hold me under but I will not drown
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| All I really know how to do is survive
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| Next time that I come to your town
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| I’ll be the fuckin' headline
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| I’m not supposed to be this person, I suppose
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| I’m not supposed to be this rapper poking holes at stereotypes
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| Or to write this juxtaposing flow to beats at shows
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| I hold the microphone and out me goes this songs and quotables
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| Call me nasty, say I stink, well hit the sink and hold your nose
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| Cause I’m about as convinceable as a bum in stolen clothes to let go of those
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| I got dreams like fish got gills
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| I can’t survive in this lake water without a deal
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| But I can build Noah’s Ark without a power drill
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| Look at this crowd like it’s a battlefield
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| Tell 'em my trials, my triumphs, my failures, my family loud and clear
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| Let 'em all judge, I don’t care how they feel
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| Fuck it, what do I care? |
| I’m my personal shrink
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| Throw my heart down on the ground, stomp it, use the blood for the ink
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| I’m used to purple and pink bruises so thanks for the tools
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| That’s just a brick from the mansion
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| Another stitch in the pants of a Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash
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| Johnny Cash |