We're cool we're different And we hate things Yeah we hate things We hate people Take a stand and we will cut you down Be yourself and we'll call you
We?re cool we?re different And we hate things Yeah we hate things We hate people Take a stand and we will cut you down Be yourself and we?ll call you
fam Should have kept it real, you put your fate in ya hand I guess that's the way it was planned There's a thin line between love and hate and you crossed
Well, hello everyone! Welcome to the Rehab Center for fictional characters. Umm, alright. Lets get right to it Who wants to start us off? How about you
you're falling from graces Rehearsing all your persona will need when you're front-page fighting (aim) for your dignity I almost taste the the irony How fiction
the rows of grey robots who control our lives The things we have to offer sometimes seem so frail. As they plan destruction and gain respectability,
same place the same time the same staton the same climax of elevation baby (Afrolistic) yeah check out my stats I throw more bombs than quarterbacks never surronding myself with fictional
Even harder to be the Gods we created to be This Western way of life ain't native to me Put one nigga in your Pulp Fiction that related to me I hate
's sense to make From toys that break It's time to throw away all the bad things that you hated You scared yourself away Now hate's what you appreciate
on bicycles pedalin' Quit meddling in my business I'm a grown man I leave no witnesses, I'm a known man I understand reality to the fullest And plan
Eastend, my friend, And round here you gotta watch your back 'cause everyone's bent, Bare man who think they're rough just 'cause they're shotting the peng, Hating on Plan
circus. * Up against the rows of grey robots who control our lives The things we have to offer sometimes seem so frail. As they plan destruction and
a cruel price for what they call life Dealt with it briefly took him out that night Some ask why must they hate the look in his eyes Like the child
shaft restin on a hoe's tongue (word) Sippin Dom Perignon while she sippin up them newborns Yeah, bet ya hate the news holmes (nigga!) He probably somewhere
Should have kept it real you put your fate in ya hand I guess thats the way it was planned [Hook: Cormega] There's a a thin line between love and hate
you're salsa dancing with confusion When no one's your friend except needles and addictions Without your enemies and your problems you'd feel alone But I guess that's why we write fiction
