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He rose from Texas the wrestling scene writing the scriptures of 3:16, |
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took it upon himself to erase pieces of trash who got in his face, |
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I see his shirts wherever I wander, I know in my heart that they've never laundered |
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and they never need it to be and that kind of attitude appeals to me. |
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And Mcmahon can't control him so don't even try, |
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you can have him arrested but there goes the ride, |
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can't take away the intensity of his high, |
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but you can't lock away the Stone Cold pride. |
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Took out poor Vinnie a shot to the sac, |
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A picture was taken so he could look back, |
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A pain inflicted on a true fiend, |
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molding the king of the true 3:16, |
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he's in top form and his knee is fixed, |
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ready to school that Shawn Michaels prick |
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and open up a can of whoop-ass |
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how do you like that jackass? |
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And Mcmahon can't control him so don't even try, |
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you can have him arrested but there goes the ride, |
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can't take away the intensity of his high, |
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but you can't lock away the Stone Cold pride. |