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Is an MC far-sighted, far-off, |
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Far-fetched or far-reaching? |
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Stop spitting that self-possessed shit |
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And start teaching |
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It's never too late to turn the car around |
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Screeching tyres speak of pious liars |
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Preaching bias |
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It's time to count your blessings |
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And calculate your trials |
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I no longer have to hear shit |
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I'm coughing after a fierce hit |
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I sit with the red-headed girl with the pierced tit and a dimple on her cheek |
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You seem a bit simple when you speak |
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You should try not to believe |
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Everything you read |
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Before you bring new seed to this world |
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Where girls share tips on curled hair |
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And the Nature's ailing |
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Your celly and your pagers failing |
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To receive the Vital |
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"How does Young America perceive the Idol?" |
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Is he omnipotent, omniscient |
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And present at all times? |
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Is he a mid-wife or a medium of |
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What we call rhymes? |
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"How does Young Finland perceive the Idol?" |
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Is He a true leader |
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Or just an idle title in a magazine headline |
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Smoking sponsorship cancersticks |
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And sipping back on redwine |
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Join me in bed |
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Nine different ways to cheat at Solitaire |
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88 possible combinations |
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That result in landing that solid air |
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American foreign politics have moved |
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From cultural imperialism to Globalization |
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Hundreds of millions of lost souls turn to me hopin' I saves 'em |
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But Why bother using my Mic time wisely? |
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Why be Gil-Scott Heron, when I can be Ron Isley? |
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(Precisely! Most of yawl listen to my shit only 'cos it sounds phat, anyhow.) |
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My material is in no way straight |
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Over-weight conducted at a slower rate |
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But it's politically obese |
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I polish the Polish Police and let my soul ease |
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No lease-based deals, please |
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Just Truth Vomiting |
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Omitting to the highest bidding |
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MC's need new pastimes |
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How about sitting unattached and still for hours |
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Knitting a patchwork quilt for cowards |
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Wond'ring what your Life |
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As a never-was MC devoured? |
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It's not all Black and White |
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There's patches of Gray |
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No need to attack and fight |
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My stee matches your Way |
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Who catches more play on the matress you lay? |
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Melting through |
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Like hot water poured on Statues of Clay |
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You'll get your raw share |
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If you treat the Law fair |
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And actively forget everything you saw there |
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Biochemical warfare, ah-yeah |
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Socio-political espresso enemas for an encore |
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Where you left me was a lose-lose situation |
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Landing in th middle of a church leaving the concgregation standing |
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The conversation ending |
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I burned heads |
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Like an orientation camp branding iron |
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I see Good Reverend Abbot handing |
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Byron a plaque at the Poet's Corner |
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Show 3 in hand while I attack from the poet's Sauna 03 FINLAND Style |
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Fill the bucket, throw some water |
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On the rocks and perspire |
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**** it! that's an order, |
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I'll burn your rhymes in the fire |
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I gave you a chance two separate times |
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Now you calling me a Liar |
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Well, at least I rock a Symbolical Umbilical you at the end of a wire |