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A Girl was strolling on a midsummer’s day/The birds they were being whistling so merrily and gay/Along arrived a white steed, the best array/And it carried a youthful man, these words and phrases he did say/”Come Are living by The nice moon/That rules the robust tide/Climb up on my horse, really like/And be my sweet brideOutkast’s “B.O.B.�