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作曲 : POS |
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@ @ |
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He never liked classes/ he was always a social cat/ |
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The cutest kittens forever where he at/ |
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The rudest men held positions at the flat/ |
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Momma loved him/ but momma wanna man to help assist with this boy/ |
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This boy this swing and a miss/ |
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Bright eyed beautiful lips plumped with lies/ |
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Ma stumped and crying/ but he dont ever ask why/ |
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Just kisses ma goodbye/ zips his jacket up and goodnight/ |
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Skateboard or bike/ (like peace)/ |
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Im out of category x4 |
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(you know why)/ |
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Cause he dislike the strife so avoids it/ |
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Dont trust teachers/ cause they dont trust him/ |
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Dont trust motives/ so he dont trust friends/ |
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He cant tell if most other people cold/ or just dont trust black skin/ |
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Displaced the race card shuffled/ |
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The spade ace into a place/ where cards stayed blank/ |
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And not to say without a face/ more like a lack of color/ |
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Not really to certain how to go about a brother/ |
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It wasnt always like that though/ |
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But momma moved him out the gutter to the curb/ |
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so he wouldnt wash away/ |
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He didnt seem to get that though/ |
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and momma wasnt really pullin in that butter |
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So his bread came another way/ and he couldnt have nice things/ |
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**** em he didnt even want em/ |
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if he needed em he found a way to got em/ |
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Since everybody doubt em/ he happily obliged to bide his time/ |
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And find his little piece of peace/ at the bottom/ like **** yall |
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Im out of category x8 |
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He build his self-esteem up off some tricks/ |
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Cause even when he matched as far as skin with kids it seemed they didnt mix/ |
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(And) there seemed to be disdain from the kids that clashed colors with him/ |
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Rebel yelling girls trying to make they daddy pissed/ |
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So aint nobody on his buddy list/ |
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Cause they would probably give him business/ |
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about the shitty sweater he lives in/ |
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So he surrounds himself with hope to touch a throne/ |
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And other people feeling all alone/ |
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Hold your heart/ |
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Im out of category x4 |
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He found punk rock the first time that/ |
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He rode either the nine or eleven bus line it slips the mind/ |
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But they way they didnt need to fit in/ |
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He asked if he could pull the bell and said/ mom I wanna be like them/ |
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Found his kin/ brothers at school thinking he trying to/ rewrite skin/ |
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Other are fools never seem some/ shit like him/ |
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So far hes been a bitter boy/ |
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Living like litter no choice no quieter so cue the noise/ |
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Aint nothing like a/ Mohawk/ to show off/ your **** off/ |
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And kick off/ the Reeboks/ for boots/ |
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To keep the block off you/ |
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But he could/ see how/ the re-route/ of style/ |
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made the eye brows raise, (but)/ |
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Not for nothing wasnt changing you/ |
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Hed seen his daddy with a pipe/ too young to understand/ |
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Life aint coming from this man holding hands/ with him/ |
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He probably didnt meant to hit him/ |
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he probably didnt even mean to plant his seed/ |
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Is my picture in his wallet with him?/ hes thinking probably not/ |
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And even so its probably rolled up with some coke in it/ |
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Old and out of focus so nope/ the road they chose was not his/ |
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Nobody will ever be like him/ hold your heart |
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Im out of category x 12 |
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