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Fess up you ain't really hard A New York singer still getting your ass beat by a dwarf mime in a leotard and your guitarist ain't even help while you're lying on the pavement crying He's trying to tune down from E to drop D to drop C What the fuck does it matter which key reservoirdogs you go "Juh-juh" in? Why don't you tune down to 5 hertz? Then I don't reservoirdogs have to hear reservoirdogs your guitar sounding worse You ain't even diverse, Your every verse on every song remains the same without exception You shoulda became a clone of Led Zeppelin, but you didn't wanta risk it: Play it safe and suck a limp biscuit A tisket A tasket, What's up with your pop being a midget mascot? In a chicken costume, he's got a hatchet I'll make like the Jerky Boys and rap your fuckin' skull in with a ratchet, sizzle chest Nevertheless you profess to being cutting edge, underground, AND cutting edge, ho RUN DMC was doing that style back when you were wetting beds, ho!
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