Plastic hearts turn to plastic souls.
Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose
Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans
Evaporating cruel regimes, telling the kingdom their schemes
Even if i die, i'm gon' be a fuckin problem
Comes the king back to day one, thy kingdom come
You haters put up your guards
I come to win your hearts
Lose your mind in the rhythm, another kingdom ill from the cycling symptoms,
And i'm the same, on e'erything i love, or everything i love
Load em up quick, it's time for us to spray
My minds astray, my hearts finally gray
Miami nights, made a couple grand
So not my hearts been patched
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