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The more of you that I inspect
The more of me I see reflect
The more I try to read your lips
The more the mask you're wearing rips
But when I
made in heaven
If they're gonna talk, let 'em

I'm not a trick but I'm a trick for you
I'm the girl next door
Doin' what you wanna do
What I'll never do,
your heart

Don't fool yourself
But tell no one else
That it's more than just
An ordinary pain
In your heart

When you catch up
But she says
your heart

Don't fool yourself
But tell no one else
That it's more than just
An ordinary pain
In your heart

When you catch up
But she says
one's better
Cause we're a match made in Heaven
And this kind of love's forever

Brooklyn, move my soul like this
Kissin' my stilettos
Move your mouth up
wonder what we could have been? (Wonder what we could have been)
But your mind plays tricks with distance
Always makes things feel so unfinished

I
what
We could have been?
But your mind plays tricks with distance
Always makes things feel so unfinished

I miss you more than I loved you i do
I miss
again.

By any standards, a bizarre reunion!

Is being homeless affecting your game?

I wouldn't know, as I have a home in England.

No, by a home
spittin' at the camera like Trick Daddy
So swaggy, he could have broke up with IG
I ain't surprised that they broke up on IG
I got the game on IV
Might
This is the one situation
I wanted most to avoid
Nothing I say will convince him
This isn't a trick.

A drink on clear moonlit night
I relax,
who blow the huntsman's horn and by the look of this one
You've not got much to fear

Here I am, I'm very fierce and frightening
I come to match my
who blow the huntsman's horn and by the look of this one
You've not got much to fear

Here I am, I'm very fierce and frightening
I come to match my
to me (what?)
Are you a nasty girl? (Are you nasty?)
Classy, now I wanna see you ra-ratchet (match my, match my freak)
Do with your tricks in the bed
the car that I drive
And you kno
I don't love broads hollering pimp or die
I drink and drive
Will have you out here selling your snatch
You met your match
but it don't match up with your stroke

Wherever you are, whatever you need
Don't call me, don't worry 'bout me

Got another side of me, I like
and trick on they cash
on your funky ass I only buy shit that last
A lifetime I write rhyme, chippin through
the pipeline then it's flight time, that's when
you from behind, see
The ass shake, big break hoes torsos
Gotta go, see you groupies at my next show

Big rip the twat
I rip your cunts out with spoons
the gasket blows
Your caskets close
My eyes open
You fuck around and get John Blaze now ya broken
And now I'm hoping you escape before crimes broken braids
to the floor
Lemme know, what's up with us
Get it on
I wanna get you home
I'ma put it on

They your size, little waist don't match your thighs
Say you're on my
When I was just a kid, dreamt that one day we'd all get rich
No more problems and no more tricks
I set my sights high 'cause in my life time
Man,
eyes on my riches
Can't knock your hustle for real, it's aight bitches
I'm game tight, see it all through the platinum French frames
With the French
you chose to rise to
My associations are finite in need
I stopped believing in you, way before you were the pieces on the shore
Our thoughts, our works,
the TEC out
I'm not coming to repair your fuckin' electronic computers
God, I'm gonna puke
I'm so gone off the hookah
I think I swallowed a loofah
I
the entire state
And straight to hell, got an impaled by the gates
So Satan stuck his face in an ashtray
While I sashayed around flames with a match and I

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    In a song from the 80's, by the legendary Blue Oyster Cult...."Oh no! They say he's got to go, go. Go ....."
    A ...Godzilla!
    B Oh no, no , no!
    C ...and kill again!
    D ...and get back to where he was before!

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