If I had to pick a piece of the pie
A partical part of the quip
If I had to take the ones and the zeros til the data was split
If I got my heart back and got to redistributing it…
The fire I spit – whats the point of the shit
When you walk through total resitance sans a figurative hitch
And love has made me it’s bitch
He got that Power of play to stay; so I could say “Maybe one day.”
The only repreave from the bleed, was let’s see –
– I wasn’t what he wanted. He didn’t want me.


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