| I’m in the cut with bloody knuckles
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| Irony, sight for sore eyes to see
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| Least likely to like to leave
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| Lie to me (lie to me)
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| Tell me that I’m good and misunderstood
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| Cause the fear (the fear) is frightening
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| And I don’t want to be judged
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| I don’t want to be judged
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| I don’t want to be judged
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| So tell me where the hugs at?
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| Fuck where the drugs at?
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| I’m dying (dying) and you’re not crying (crying) (louder)
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| I’m tired of feeling sour
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| Fuck the power, and whoever on it
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| Cause I murder every opponent
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| I wanna see his mother sob
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| «Why?», body hunched over his coffin
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| Like, «Why did it go so quick?
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| Why did that clip slip and make his lip drip bright red?»
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| I’m feeling nauseous
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| Vomit up chunks of check mix and light brunch
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| Cause I found out the only virgin here was fruit punch
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| So what was the point of even blowing up
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| Rolling up, getting blown and such
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| But never ever ever ever ever ever (grip the cup)
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| I guess it’s just a myth of song
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| Call them easter bunts
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| I’m sick of making friends
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| Sick of making amends
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| I’m sick of women (women) thinking that I owe them (true)
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| You got your vowels screwed
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| Fuck am I to do
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| When the message misconstrued
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| And I end up in the noose
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| For something I didn’t do
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| So fuck you I’m done talking
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| So tell me where the hugs at
|
| Fuck where the drugs at
|
| I’m dying (dying) and your not crying (crying)
|
| I’m tired of feeling sour
|
| Fuck the power
|
| And whoever on it
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged
|
| I don’t want to be judged |