| It’s like cold mornings and warm nights to form sights
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| It’s all bright, and in my head, music makes it feel alright
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| Cold mornings from long nights, the wrong type
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| But song strike, and short life from proud sparks and gunfight
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| Let’s twist scenarios like smoke from a long pipe
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| Combine it with the cloudiness of life to make the song tight
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| Cold like waking up from my diagonal sleep
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| Reminiscing on what happens when the alcohol speaks
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| (I mean it’s)
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| Beef and battery, but also son it has to be
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| Making you feel fly, friendly sky, its down to gravity
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| Actually, it’s off with the whites the thoughts mapped to me
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| It’s like a widow queen who wasn’t married happily
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| Warm nights, I finally put the ideas together
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| And colonize the place, the rhymes that’s gonna change the weather
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| Cold the hotness, cold the warm I perform
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| And now I bring alive for the Colorful Storm
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| Grinding out them autumn leaves
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| White sands and green palm trees
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| Like silhouettes, shadows forms (Ah)
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| Colorful Storms
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| Grinding out them autumn leaves
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| White sands and green palm trees
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| Like silhouettes, shadows forms (Ah)
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| Colorful Storms
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| Yo, at my dining room table is where I write
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| The world stays impression, still hemmings my father’s life
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| The soul for holding, now poetry on Gadota
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| Broken from a tree but still branching to every owner
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| Now you know I’m gonna just leave you with that to think
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| I’m like a dog I fuck around with ya ass by instinct
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| By instinct, I then sink to places with my pen blinks
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| 10 drinks, I have you dance with dead folks and then think
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| In love with girls that help me see through the past
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| And other people that’s reflecting ya ass
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| Same song, different time but its effecting my line
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| In the mood to freeze the morning, pouring out the sunshine
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| That’s why I gravitate back to the table, maybe have a plate
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| Slouch over feel the rolls increase in my fattened shape
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| Gravitate, whenever see day, I must evaluate
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| And warm up the night with different bars, I never calculate
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| Visually, for the changing of age
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| Adjust the world that we create through every musical page
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| I play the world and keep creating the stage
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| I use blue for the loneliness and red for afraid
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| Turn raindrops to paintdrops that off at every trainstop
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| Chain spots that make the last place be where the pain stops
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| Go to the sharks, cuz Pops they at the same spot
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| I’ve never been there for some reason, it’s strange, I
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| Been on the road for so long, so things I’m holding on
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| Leave it open so I can never close a song
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| It’s never gone, I tie the beam and pull the rope along
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| To where there’s cold mornings and where the nights are warm |