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time - x marks the spot lyrics

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[extra kool:]
(let me get a boca burger with extra bacon)

[extra kool:]
being straight edge ain’t easy but it’s fun for the girls
we feed them rufies and downers just to watch their heads swirl
[time:]
sometimes we get a kiss on the cheek but nothing that leaves our lips moist
and the not having s-x part isnt by choice

now i wouldn’t go that far to tattoo x’s on my hands
but this permanent markers fading and that thing spinning is my only fan
i don’t want a sip peer pressures for high schoolers
i’m not thirsty not even for a wine cooler
had to deal with reality since my alveoli sacks filled
stressed out both my eyes feeling cracked out and swelled
but i still see things i and obey if they ask me to follow
p-ssed out like a transient hugging a zima bottle
i smoke with my second hand using neither my left or my right
(yo don’t even ask me for a light)
things get intense, when i ignite a nag champa and get sh-tfaced from the incense
(yo is this guy sober)
i’m positive like my breathalyzer
running red lights and octagons and i’m your designated driver

[extra kool:]
smile for me please you make me wanna taste your suicide
just an ugly set of teeth, little boy sad with an epileptic lifestyle

[time:]
been engaged for a while now my wife’s denial
were planning on having kids i’m gonna name him justin love
just in case i have to pull this plug and unscrew my smile from their face

[extra kool:]
i’m tired of being mommies little monster the black sheep
hopelessly straight edge and no one knows these limbs are too d-mn cheap
god’s a sheep and i think it’s time we dodge these lullabies
hands on heads the holes are centered,
and now’s the time for everything to die, must i try?
but her bruises are just so d-mn tasty
i only want her hands in my heart, so why does she hate me?
i only took advantage when her legs fell off
i celebrated with a curly shuffle
and a stomach full of rocks. i am jack’s colon, i get cancer and kill jack.
well that about sums it up, it use to be the handcuffs
but what about the bullets in the back?

[extra kool:]
being straight edge ain’t easy but it’s fun for the girls
we feed them rufies and downers just to watch their heads swirl
[time:]
sometimes we get a kiss on the cheek but nothing that leaves our lips moist
and the not having s-x part isn’t by choice

[extra kool:]
the enemy is syphilis, it’s just a grimy contribution
time is the amphetamine, smiles as the head gently starts to loosen
mr. crispy extra kool, the silent half of optik fusion
pardon me, but i’m pretty sure my head has already abandoned my body
it’s go time, and these groggy frames are starting to make me feel naughty
like here kitty, kitty, if only you’d let me in, please?
i’m just a broken heart sparked, the one who loves to watch the knees bleed
feed me huh! because i’m getting a little anxious
(you’re just not fun any more)
that’s just because these veins show no traces goodness
gracious, how could i let the cigarette burns spark my interest?
the straighter the edge the more the wall paper turns
these works are a product of deep breaths
intense yes, but that’s just the way the cookie crumbles
oh how silly of me please come and tempt death
won’t you come and taste my disease
these words are killing me softly
so there’s no time to watch me crumble
i don’t want to play connect the dots with the track marks
and this addiction is already causing me enough trouble
and now it’s time to let the angel out of the closet
because i’m tired of him taunting me
the cat is out of the bag, so now it’s time to kill the little kitty
so no matter what the addiction i’ll always remain faithful
these are my favorite h-rns spewed from a grimy tongue spoken through fables

[time:]
8 gl-sses a day whether it’s tap water or river
8 packs a day whether it’s for your lungs or liver
skipping through alleys, talking to myself sober as h-ll
following track marks for miles, skiing down noses
cause it’s up to the government if drugs are in style
put nicotine in my gum and liquor stores on my corner
in the couch potatoes inject dumb and call the coroner
the television hides the drink, while the billboards advertise national disorder

[time & extra kool:]
we don’t smoke but the pollution’ll probably give us emphysema
ah f-ck it let’s go attack and tap that keg of zima



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