| Opium to the ceiling
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| All for the love of plugs, squealing «ugh», healing
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| No more Timberland turf, you’re too soft for this
|
| Award-winning awkwardness you walking off into the office with
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| In the rims with friends' ends like state trials and Paypals
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| In nondescript homes in Arizona
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| In sub-divided neighborhoods, with floors made of solid wood
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| In roofs of clay tiles sits a couple million dollars
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| Said I tried but the old me blew it
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| Exactly how you knew I’d do it
|
| All my brothers, I would love to paint 'em Jewish
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| Reinfiltrate the movement and assassinate the music
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| Exaggerate the ass and face then masturbate to it
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| The constituency brilliant, but the candidates are stupid
|
| I’m too rude to ask for nudes
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| But way too ruthless not to pursue it
|
| Maybe, maybe you’ll feel me when I
|
| (Maybe you can feel me when I)
|
| Feel me when I say (feel me when I say)
|
| Whatever don’t kill me (if it don’t kill me, don’t kill me)
|
| Gets me through the day
|
| Chorus to the horses made her body porous
|
| Absorbing up the pork made 'em enormous
|
| Fear of rape made 'em informant
|
| Fully 'shroomed in the motel room waging the torment
|
| Never trust a dope fiend with your hopes and dreams
|
| Let 'em play in museums with the dead bodies and broken things
|
| What happens when the sugar barons meet the coca kings
|
| And they beam it into space
|
| Seem to be in place at the parent teacher conference
|
| With hallucinations screaming in her face
|
| The cleaning lady crazy, she say she got a demon in the safe
|
| But it’s eating through the back and soon be leaving through the gates
|
| The hollerer shouts, «Who's bright enough to pay a toddler
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| To watch a ghoulish Oxycontin gobbler on Hanukkah?»
|
| Maybe a Phoenix-based multi-million dollar launderer
|
| Who fucked the cartels so bad, she attends court on the monitor
|
| Maybe, maybe you’ll feel me when I
|
| (Maybe you can feel me when I)
|
| Feel me when I say (feel me when I say)
|
| Whatever don’t kill me (if it don’t kill me, don’t kill me)
|
| Gets me through the day
|
| Bad trippin' through the tenderloin
|
| Slimmer than a slot to enter coins to let a nigga join
|
| A figure skater like Michelle Kwan
|
| Aluminum illuminated to a hail bomb, ice
|
| Then hold onto it like the L. Ron device
|
| Then pass the audition
|
| To the poor hands sided in maelstrom’s position
|
| Street sales in comparison pale to the Scottsdale bail bonds commission
|
| It’s like trappin' out the pawn shop
|
| Gettin' close to the magic like the wrappin' on the wand box
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| Third layer from the wave
|
| And grant absurd last prayers and first favors from the grave
|
| To crack the pipes like icy nights and turn mayors into slaves
|
| Politics bring fevers to punish dealers
|
| Adjudicate the Jostens and stop the ring leaders
|
| The Geese Howards and King Ghidorahs
|
| Cook E in the family tree for steam fevers
|
| Maybe, maybe you’ll feel me when I
|
| (Maybe you can feel me when I)
|
| Feel me when I say (feel me when I say)
|
| Whatever don’t kill me (if it don’t kill me, don’t kill me)
|
| Gets me through the day |