| You see the songs, they’re-
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| It’s what I do
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| Just write the songs and sing them
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| Therefore it’s pure feeling
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| It’s complete honesty
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| If you can place the origin of your fear, it will disappear
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| My thoughts, dreams, plots, and my schemes
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| That’s what’s on my mind when I toss in my sleep
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| My heart like my pen when I jot and it bleed
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| My cart full of sin, when I shop it’s a spree
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| I got some new leaves
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| I’m like «What's the word with you, sir?»
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| You just moss on a tree, I’m not concerned with you
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| I leave the curb when I’m crossing the street
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| I’m watching out for the Mark of the Beast
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| The badge on the policeman, black carpenter pants
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| A half ounce in 'em, another half ounce in my fleece
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| And on account of this, go ‘head and count me out of this
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| I’m out with the breeze
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| I’m dodging county, it’s a thousand degrees
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| It’s back alley shit, my nigga, look
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| My eyes wide open, I’m sleepy, I’m on a highway
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| Paul Giamatti, a nigga was sittin' sideways
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| A bubble and a Skully when traveling through the Tri-state
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| And trouble play the gun, hear it clap and it make my mind race
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| Back and forth, I place fourth, keep your torch
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| Got your morsels on my plate, motherfucker
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| I wasn’t born, mama snatched me off the motherfucking stork on a Friday
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| Say that shit to my face
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| If you listen sometimes, you can, you can get a whole conversation full of
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| people talking
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| Two bars and a song sometimes
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| For me, knowledge is everything
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| Still learning?
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| Yeah-
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| I learned my whole life
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| I learned something last night |