| Young Zachary…
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| Max on that track…
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| Think through your ABCs
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| So you’ll start off at A and wind up at Z
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| Now which of that group occurs most commonly?
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| Now that writing symbol. |
| It pops up a lot, right?
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| High profiling, always all up in a spotlight
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| Cool kid, in crowd
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| Not who this hot shit is droppin' for
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| This is for my not-so-populars
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| It’s for my Xs, my Zs and my Qs
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| My Ñs, my Js, and my Vs and Ks, too
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| This is for my outcasts and misfits
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| All my oddballs, nod your noggins to this
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| It’s going out to my Qs and my Ks and my Zs
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| My Ñs, my Xs, my Js and my Vs
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| Go Watsky. |
| Okay, I’m going to
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| Using only Y A I O and U
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| So many things I can’t say without you
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| But back up, trick, this song’s not about you
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| I swing my fist until a bully catch a fat lip
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| You’ll think it’s a conniption fit from sniffin' catnip
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| As I run rings around a dingus I do cunnilingus
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| On a gymnast till that foxy lady hits a backflip. |
| (Wooo!)
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| I’m sorry if I’m on that brag tip
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| But your armada’s nada and I’m chillin' on that flagship
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| Baby, two can play at war
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| I’m cruisin' on my unicorn and shootin' as I soar
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| It’s stupid how I’m poopin' on you nincompoops
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| And scoopin' up my loot and scootin' out that door
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| So if a bastard calls you gross and got you glum
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| You host a holy ghost — not hollow as a drum
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| All in all our flaws show what it’s all about
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| So f ho-hum go dumb and just roar till your throat’s numb
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| So, um, I was that chubby kid at camp who would swim
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| With his shirt on, so no light could tan his skin
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| Wishing his waistband was trim, and thanks to my pituitary gland
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| I’m now a man and slim, but that pain stays with you — phantom limb
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| Chantin' hymns for all my antonyms of big-man-on-campus gym rats
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| And pompous girls with pompoms
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| For non-Don Juanitas and non-Don Juans who skip prom or formal
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| For abnormal sorts who don’t play sports with jocks
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| Non-conforming rocks
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| So if how you do you is too unorthodox for a box
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| Put a fist up. |
| Box your way out. |
| Hit it
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| Mold’s gross. |
| Who would want to fit it?
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| This is going out to my Zs and my Ks my Qs
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| My Ñs, my Xs, my Vs and Js, too
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| Folks with asthma and physical handicaps
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| Birthmarks, scars, and burns or dramatic family crap
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| Going out to my Qs and my Ks and my Zs
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| My @-signs, my Js, and my Vs
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| And last on this list
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| All my library-living wordplay-loving kids
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| Zach, smack it to bits
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| Gandalf, Houdini, Jafar… oh no!
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| What’s wrong? |
| Look!
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| Snap (e)!
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| Gotcha, guys, that was our plan all along
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| Wizardry on a song with a magical trick
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| What a hot collaboration
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| Boom, this match is (e)lit (e)
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| Gritty hard diamond minds causing paws to applaud
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| Two shiny rock stars, two hip-hop g (e)od (e)s!
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| Whoa whoa, slow it down, don’t talk bull and brag
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| I’m sorry, man, I’m just chock full of s (e)wag (e)
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| Lyrics, twisting, turning, curling
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| Similar to a tail on a pig or a pug
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| From a pair of (e)mc (ee)s with a lot in common
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| Our skin and our skills
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| Awwww!
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| Don’t allow rigid limitations
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| To stop you from rising to difficult occasions
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| Wow, so motivational!
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| Oh, without a doubt
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| And now it’s «P (e)ac (e) man»
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| And I’m out. |
| Ghost |