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A Cancer for the Cure
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Enya
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I caress twice a budding flower and it blooms in front of me My fingers sticky, for to prick is the function of the modern rose; On how many souls do I hold the mortgage with extortionate leases? House ‘em and leave em eating Reese’s pieces The lyric I provide’s a Southside with many a place to live; Not for the coasting, but for the roasted; the dying and formative And here I tell my pre-history, before thе riches set in Back when my fеar of failure cost nowt, and spirit was good for the getting Back in a London that, for the rich, was free I was inspired to desire what only liars would say was made for me I was dumb enough to think they’ll see that I’m pale and rate me fairly still So I'm dumb enough to appropriate the beat from Jean and Lauryn Hill Apoplectic at such reflexive invective And by only my mirror and industry am I protected; Nobody has a clue about me yet But I am a world-straddling controversy in the making; I’m set I’m a star foetal, miles ahead and out of sight Like Don Cheadle; one of many things behind the sunlight Ain’t that right Drake? Oh, perpetrate no mistake I refer to Nick Drake; a type of Drake, but unlike Drake I kept caressing the flower until it was dead I went to no funeral, but to the basement instead Copper dirty, holed up with double-D despair flirting; At the bottom of the world, I got to work Chorus This track is my baby and my baby is the track I want you to take her and never bring my baby back This track is my baby and my baby is the track Oh, to the man, won’t you bring my baby back? We English, we learn early how to dodge raindrops Still I was minded with a certain island monkey lifestyle; And ever since by that fallen window blind I was circ*mcised I’ve plotting how to rule by the odds, and make my reign drop First we take Chelsea, Napoli, Fiji, then Seville; I’ll be eye catching, world dominising all night, pass the advil; My heart’s gonna eat up every art until it’s blown apart I’m impure, I say it proudly, for the beauty we truly And rudely adore can never be made from beauty pure Such beauty may just be deplored, or be ignored; What’s for sure it makes that beauty no less, and no more So many rappers come to sell you rhyming’s body, but mine’s a shadow For in shadows lurk redeemers who may deepen any shallow I’m a beaten and undroppable, unstoppable apostle Peddler of the rare and near-enough impossible; a fair man I always thought that when you hear your duty’s bell you don’t refuse it Refute it and find yourself by history rebuked Though exile would be a choice, I wouldn’t choose it I’m Elba’d enough; the nation’s got my spirit, can’t afford to lose it Man, these verses, ain’t they with gold of airy thinness thick like blood? These mixes of by whom, where and what I was made of: Middle class mills under working class skin A heritage that I had to leave, to come back strong enough to win From the myrrh of knowing all I can do that now bloods me From the feeling I once had that no one in the world could love me Been a danger ever since my experimenting with thinking - Yeah that’s the chamber I load whenever I’m feeling this anger- My sh*t might smoke more than cess, but I’m incensed By all I see in duplicity, in oppression and in excess And you may find a 'word floating down to visit you when you’re flat on your back; Well then I hope mine are half-resort of many a great comeback. 'Til then, that feeling that bloods me is true; no one could ever Take it away from me; its air could never turn it in anyway but blue I see you looking at me, like you can’t believe you believe it; Got my piece, let me eat it Love? I got plenty now What, you thought I’d never rapped before?
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