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(feat. Odd Oberhiem) |
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[Mark Moog] |
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2005, ready to go |
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Mark Moog, Keith Korg, Silver Synth |
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Analog explosion move rattle brains in midrange |
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All dirt production, global disasters felt universal |
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2005 no rehearsal, low frequencies hurt you |
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Levels beyond normal new star cruisers |
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Veteran battleships, Mark Moog battle sick |
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Handle your trinity fine to infinity we at it again |
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Choke you out, battle again |
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Mothra, rocket launcher entourage |
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Figure out the level we on |
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They've lost in an overspace cross |
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I split your face, ghetto funk |
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Finger trouble funk, rollin XJ3P underground evil funk |
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Get ready, genocidal airwaves |
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Terrified from the airplay, one two |
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Analog |
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[Chorus: Odd Oberheim] |
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2005, level no drive, comin to raise |
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Step in the new days of death waves |
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Comin to raise 2005, level of live |
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Comin to raise step in the new ways of death rays |
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Comin in waves |
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[Keith Korg] |
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Keith Korg, vocal booth kingpin |
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Wipe your lyrics off on a napkin |
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With an action packed thrust, turbo boost get loose |
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Face crews like a bull fighter |
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Makin a freebase smoker put out his cigarette lighter |
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Green man, see me pushin a black Cadillac |
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With Darth Vader and R2-D2 drivin a Fleetwood Brougham |
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Through a Wendy's drivethrough, orderin spicy chicken |
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With Christmas bags with easy pickings, with Captain Kirk shirts |
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Watchin MC's move like robots with platinum jewels on |
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and tight mini-skirts, Xerox copy duplicate man X |
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Let's dead man flex, open distance disconnect |
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Answering machines, operation evacuation stayin with a green me |
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Coat with a fedora gray Kangol, sippin out a can {?} |
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With Magilla Gorilla, drivin a red Jeep Durango |
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Sound system plush, with Space Ghost in the back lightin my joint |
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Angel dust, bumpin Cold Crush and Linda Ronstadt |
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watchin the cat breakdance on the doormat |
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Doberman Pinschers do the electric boogie at the bus stop |
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Sellin these kegs 'til the one stops |
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Bark of your mouth from the Vicks cough drops |
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Magnum plus, bust bust bust, bust bust |
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[Chorus: Odd Oberheim] |
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Two thousand and five the level of live is raised |
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Step in the new ways of death rays, comin to blaze |
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Two thousand and five the level of live is raised |
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Step in the new ways of death rays, comin in waves |
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[Silver Synth] |
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By hypothesis official oral homicide I'm rockin this |
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Surgically infectious type unconsciousness, I drop a logic bomb |
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Hideous to the intellect-less |
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Eviscerating precision encisions as a forensic |
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Eviscerating abstractness by circumstance, my megahurt verse advance |
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Razor knife sharp through your orifice |
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Like pseudonyms exploit, I dispose in violation |
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Then cloak and dagger, to the ceiling in your fantasy |
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Choked off the verbal dispatch, inhale the herbal through the face plate |
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Plus the larynx hatch, extensive |
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Effective, eviscerating, virtual potential to the uppermost we coast |
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Brightly, with industry autopsies that slightly splinter |
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Methodically slash, achilles tendon we bash bass platoons |
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And butched buffoons, then photograph a dozen whispers |
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Particular plasma, gettin soaked, we structure the obscure circumstances |
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at a slope then vehicle the progress, and |
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scorch the bureaucratics while we torch interpalms on microphones |
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We the studio [?] utility species discoputer Sil Synth |
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[Odd Oberheim] |
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Two thousand and five, comin in live, level is raised |
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To fit the new ways of death rays, comin to raise |
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Two thousand and five the level of live has been raised |
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Step in the new ways of death rays, comin in waves |
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I grab any lightning rod and transport to rock odd |
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The year VMX double-oh-thousand hot rod |
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Clog up your intestines with the flower snakes |
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And grab your [?], the girls are ready to quake |
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She says you're weirder than a Doctor Who marathon |
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I tell her to hush, the year's 2005 and beyond |
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Golden dia-monds, flyin high like Icarus |
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With wings that get so high you just might miss this |
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Can you understand the level of comprehension |
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I'm talkin whips made out of titanium |
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2005 the level of live, no sound tones |
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Destroyin death moons, walkin over the Gods of hip-hop's large |
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I'm feelin blessed with the witness to original Amarettos |
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Sippin on top of high levels |
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It's 2005, the level of live has been raised |
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To fit the new waves of death rays |
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Comin in waves, it's 2005, the level of live is raised |
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To fit the new ways of death rays comin in waves |
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Two thousand and FIVE |
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TWO, THOUSAND, AND, FIVE!! |
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Two thousand and FIVE.. |
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Two thousand and FIIIIIIIIIIVE...... |