I live in a frequency, Where action rules, That God is me, In a war against my body, In the poetry of poverty. `Cause it`s the rich ones who make it, `Cause it`s the rich ones who have the guts to take it. They feel fine. They feel fine.
Check out complainer by the bar, Let`s kick his ass and make him beg for more, Let`s line him up, And make him scream and shout, And show him he`s got nothing to complain about.
`Cause I believe in the groove complacent, So jack me up and fuck me up with entertainment, Yeah, I feel fine.
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