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Intro - TK as 'Mit'

Erupting!



TK as 'Mit'

Rapidly rushing, ludicrously gushing, bloodily flushing my face, namely crazily, a degradingly disgrace, pleadingly bleating praise, gravity is raising, upwards I'm racing and pacing and chasing to space above me, I'm loving (this). I'm a dummy piece of shit, this music isn't bliss, it's insisting Mit's critical hits on record hits! But do I give a shit? No, there's no shit to be given, fu-fu-fuck it's Mit! More of a cracker than snacker Ritz, crack-a-lackin' like chips, explains my lips and my mouth all outta spit, *breath*, damn, Mit's whiter than the white in the mints! Blandest color tint, white doesn't even exist!



Chorus

On the fast lane, you wouldn't wanna run into Mit, Mit's running, running, running, running, and running something on his record playing and saying shit and spraying liq, flapping lips, wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-wha-whaaaat...



TK as 'Mit'

You call my rapping and running fast? That ain't fast; fast is the rising prise of gas! I need to bleed gasoline, I'm oily, sweating for standing here, blaring mere happening of my rapping! I'm back in the game, (ooh! ahh!) crowd yelling "ooh ahh" like monkeys in mate callin', I'm running with scissors through this Michigan blizzard, I'm the rap-rap-wrapped up wizard, spitting them cold or hot for the lizards, the one thing Mit'll never say is the word-______- I'm running through traffic, trafficking ain't happening for me, trafficking like I-75 on the high way, the fast lane, Fast Lane? Where's the Bad and Evil names?!



Chorus

On the fast lane, you wouldn't wanna run into Mit, Mit's running, running, running, running, and running something on his record playing and saying shit and spraying liq, flapping lips, wha-wha-what-



TK as 'Mit'

Mit's elite, though he's a weirdo, he's a creep, yo, he eats low, he's pumped on Doritos, Cheetos, and Fritos! A rockstar all star monster, he wonders, he's all there is, he's crazed like his balls bare piss, don't want him to have kids, so people wanna neuter him like a Doberman, and get him Castro-ated like Cuba hated it all, so Mit doesn't fall, no I don't take no bull, I'm an understate-Mit, cuz I do stand tall in this hell hole of rolls -- Get it, fans? See you all lol down the hall, the corridor of horror, performing ear harming music, people try to turn me down, tune me out, but I come back, straight up, steaming, beaming, screaming-




Chorus

On the fast lane, you wouldn't wanna run into Mit, Mit's running, running, running, running, and running something on his record playing and saying shit and spraying liq, flapping lips, wha-wha-what-

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