| You enter, step in the room, four, five
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| My over compressed thoughts and ways make you get live
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| You are the patient, and I, your black doctor,
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| Medical bills, insurance, cash in the ceiling.
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| Dioxalyn fingerprints here ever since
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| I got my white suit pressed, out the cleaners,
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| X-Ray shades, with hard shoes and some razor blades
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| Who’s the brother that’s sick, and needs the operation?
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| Bullets removed from your head, grand central station
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| I gotta cut off your ear, first behind your neck
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| Rip out the stomach, and open rectum’s to dissect
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| Shine the light, inside, roaches crawling in your throat
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| I have no tools, my hammer’s done, my drill is broked
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| I’m the doctor,
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| You wait on the waiting list,
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| Patients been here since this morning I dismiss.
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| (repeat twice.)
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| Watching people vomit green, my po-lig is lizard pills
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| My office in Berbick, I had the bodies in Beverley Hills.
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| Seeking Kimbles and bits, a girl with small tits
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| Talking to herself, her dog, and having rabid fits
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| Green fly soup in on the way from the kitchen, troop
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| Looking at T. B tuberculous on the window post
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| Ten dead dogs, a brown fox in the comatose
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| With no reps, I put more needles in they kneecaps
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| Some primitive screws, and my, yes and perhaps
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| A little sprinkle of Clorox, in their vocal box
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| Some Pepto-Bismol, Pepsi-Cola, pack of Pop Rocks
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| Mix it all together with bugs, to change the weather,
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| You be coughing blue, with eyes like Mr. Magoo
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| Straight up cartoon, you’re bound to fall out real soon.
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| As you come in the bright, you ride the orange ambulance
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| Look at widows and pell see the mental patients dance
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| Doin six and seven, steps ladies yells dance
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| Upside downside with walls flyin' through the hall/whore
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| Mr. Reeves/Mysteries with yellow bees they fly, sting your face
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| You out there bumps, caught up with a acne case
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| Plastic surgery, your lawyer now refer to me Giving you sketches, exquisive pictures of the gill man
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| What’s the matter, are you happy? |
| Na you’re ill man
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| Standin' back, you choose a ticket,
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| My spiritual laws of vitamins will turn your face wicked
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| You’re invited to ride the glide to your homicide |