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I used to have |
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Peace, serenity, teaching divinity |
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Break bread, sipping the blood, eating with enemies |
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Blind, pearl on my mind thinking we fittin' to be |
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This, that, and the third |
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Boy did I learn, tables turn |
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Billy holiday burned down to play when my nerves drowned my folks away |
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Swerving in the locomotive, far from my hopes and motives |
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Back to boasting at shows to get a standing O |
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From all the fans I know on some of that |
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sapphire rapid fire soul stuff I used to hit 'em off with |
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But now I'm some ol' "pay the toll" for the way I played the role |
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Cautious when I lace a flow, cause, pose? think I'm painting codes |
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Patience grown thin, home sick and haven't been home since |
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**** a rapper, I'm an actor in a film called: |
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"Leave me the **** alone until I find a real job" |
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Busting chrome grills off at these soft hearted breakbeats bouncing with 808's and gray ink |
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Blue heart, red skies, true art died in the heart of my mind |
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Kept trying to fulfill this, blank scribbled realness, even if it kills this |
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Poet inside |
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Used to speak sweet with sympathy |
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Tease to mimic me, sunshine every line you ever sent to me |
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Heaven sent, heavenly scent that later crippled me, shit |
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Simple men don't learn, where was your empathy? |
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Couldn't see the fork in the road |
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Kept straight forward, straight towards a humble abode we both hate more |
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Now that I fumbled and folded that open letter said "dead men walking don't dream" |
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You taped yours, and you told me I could rent it |
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Thought it was invented for my viewing pleasure |
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Human error, the apprentice turned teacher, preacher turned God |
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Couldn't reach ya, just a faade, the main feature |
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Modified for blogs, podcast the past, hi-definition, she laughed |
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Pass the message, now I'm guessing that the jokes on me |
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Cause I'm the only one threatened |
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The wretched by the windows sketching |
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Pencil? the mural of the method, don't sweat it, techniques turning, burning incense |
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Listening to Billy burn my intent, definitive days that turn my nights to fiction |
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Friction-less, just a pen trynna pimp this stress, 'cause I couldn't keep a lid on my life |
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Naive as the dry leaves on the ground, looking past the tree to the blue sky asking: |
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Why me? |