| Collosal Insight
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| Invites the soul
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| Sturdy on the good foot
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| Collosal Insight
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| Invites the soul
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| Sturdy on the good foot
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| Gracious Lord, my mega oh mighty!
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| I know I been slightly, out your path
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| Feelin' the cold draft, of the bleek winter
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| Splinters in my soul, I’m out of control
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| And I know, that I should cut down this drinkin'
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| Too many late nights and, wayward thinkin'
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| Compellin' a man to plan to shennanigans
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| The boy in me out and I got to be the man again
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| Cause I didn’t rhyme to get me rich
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| But I’m a scally, two two’s you’ll find I switch
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| Hurt and pain made me, nothin' came to save me
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| I walk with disaster, prefer to be plastered
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| 'times my master don’t ask me for jack turd
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| All I owns is my balls and my word
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| No-body heard’a me, cause I’m a new man
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| I got this new plan, to get these new grams
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| People call my name like, it’s some kinda game like
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| I ain’t got no fame like, I’m just the same type
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| Shoutin' out vain lights — «Move ya lurgy»
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| I’m far too nervy, observin' this world
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| Who the? |
| Where the? |
| What the? |
| How the?
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| Media whores keep, shovellin' powder
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| It’s nothin' to be proud of, but stuff goes on
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| Perceptions change, wrong’s right an' right’s wrong
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| Hoopla-hooblahing, devil keeps snarlin':
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| «Buy it, buy it. |
| Sell it, sell it. |
| More, more, more.»
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| This could well’a be my, last LP
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| I’ve had a good run, I’ve made a few G’s
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| I’ve had a bag of fun, I’ve smoked a few trees
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| Now I wanna rest my, knobbly knees
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| All in all I been feelin' the pinch
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| And those bourgeois blacks have been far from convinced
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| But, I don’t give a damn about UK rap
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| I’m a UK black makin' UK tracks
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| And, I got love for everyone of those scenes
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| And them pigeon-holes were never nothin' to hold me |