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Fake Tits/Ghosts
by
MF DOOM
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Lyrics
Who you think I am? Why don't you tell me who you're supposed to be 'Cause you're a pair of fake tits on a ghost to me You aren't even half-real but most of you freaks Seem to be holding a belief that you were chosen to be The Messiah, huh, a bunch of mice and liars I'll confront you silly guys, set your wives on fire You're not who you think you are You're not rebels and fighters But you're still exposing me To your irrelevant IQ's Fake f**ks, see American Idol, I would Much rather leave and ride to hell on a bike, fool Those people should be charged like felons and iced, too I'm not harsh, maybe the devil's a nice dude My rhymes, they're not medicine, mind you They can heal your soul, but they can tear it apart, too I'm a motherf**king liar, but I hate being lied to I'm a hypocrite, sh*t, I'm a hellish disciple I'm not an idol, I'm merely a guy who Keeps track of his own thoughts Man, I'm letting my mind move If I don't succeed, brother, f**k your needs f**k the world, f**k the kids, f**k the girls I'm getting mad now, something struck my nerves Looks like I gotta calm down, puff some herb Listen, head, you're out of luck, you heard? Heart turned to the brain said: „f**k you neeeeeeerd" (Yeeah) 'Cause it's not your turn, so act Like a damned soul, brother, drop and burn Some things just never change Like they're rocking a perm And this is just one of the lessons You've forgotten to learn I got some news: If you follow the herd Usually the case is You abolish your views, you see If what I'm saying is appalling to you, it's okay Just have some decency, don't call me a fool, you freak Hate spewed with a horrible tone But I will never listen to it, I'm immortal in stone Because I am still growing strong, like my horrible poems So bring the fire, baby boy, I gotta roast the opponents (Yeah) You keep knocking on the wrong address Like the Jehovah boy saying that his God's the best Mick, jaggering me, Can't you hear me knocking? I don't give a f**k and the whole village is talking I'm mine, not your somebody 3 o'clock, get your books, go home and study Be a man, get a job, bring home the money I don't want your lifestyle, 'cause you folks are lonely And mostly phony and most of you don't even know me So go teach somebody else about this false baloney You're forcing on me I'mma pause your boring monologues 'Cause, oh my god, I am grossly stunning Fake tits on ghosts, yet awfully boring Take a lookie here, I even look awesomely yawning You call yourself the boss quite a lot But i would like you stop You're like Michael Scott But not even funny
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