| Yo… yeah
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| Yo, yo
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| Ay, ay
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| Personality is weak like my batteries are beat
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| My reality is deep, my reality is bleak
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| Take them words and murder them like Jeffrey Dahmer on a beat
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| I’ve been glorifyin horrifyin drama on the street
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| Muscle of an engine block, runnin rubber scattered rocks
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| Bubble gum, soda pop, murder one, loaded Glock
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| Even though I’m motormouth, never been a chatterbox
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| «Total fuckin silence"photoshop motor cop
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| I’m being pulled into the middle of a vicious war
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| And I’m back to 0−0, the official score
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| Feelin trapped, like a leg lock figure-four
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| Feelin free, like a dreadlocked reggae boy
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| Devil’s Night in Detroit, dig a shallow grave
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| Mad Child hate Christian Audigier and Alize
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| Bring back funk — roller skatin on a Saturday
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| Tribe Called Quest, know I’m never puttin that away
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| Picnics with your girlfriend, celebratin Halloween
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| Or go on a vacation to Hawaii with your family
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| Tired of all the tension, sick of the insanity
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| Smashin people and clashin personalities
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| Fashion sense is at an all-time low
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| Give the kids some room to breathe and let their small minds grow
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| Tryin to walk away from a life I lived a long time
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| It’s gonna take some dedication and a strong mind
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| Strong will with great friends and a good vibe
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| I’m not judgin, I’m not sayin there’s a good side
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| Just want to appreciate this fuckin life and have a good time
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| Write good rhymes, shit, smoke the good kind
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| Good book, that’s a good look but it’s not mine
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| But I am God’s child and I do shine
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| People lappin up my lyrics like it’s moonshine
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| Mad, when you movin to L.A. Dog in due time
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| Bad mood tabooed tattooed preacher
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| Eyes like a racoon, nose like a vacuum
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| Act like a baboon, backroom speaker
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| Keep doin drugs, bad moves on the weekend
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| And keep on talkin like a classroom teacher
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| «You don’t wanna fuck with me, boy»
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| «Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy»
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| «You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna»
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| «You don’t wanna fuck with me, boy»
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| «You don’t wanna fuck with me, boy»
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| «Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy»
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| «You don’t wanna, you don’t wanna»
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| «…fuck with me, boy»
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| Follow you to the parkade, sharp blade, «Dagger Mouth»
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| You can see the (Dragon Hide) the same time the (Tiger Crouch)
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| Firefighter engine house, backdraft master craft
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| Aircraft, life raft, rhymes from the rifle rack
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| Spit scripture Bible camp, campfire oil lamp
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| Lava lamp murder box, box office blockbuster
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| Chip off the old block, smoother than a stick of butter
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| Boxcutter ox blood swingin like the Red Sox
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| Don’t fuck with Goldilocks, a head full of dreadlocks
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| That’ll be a glass full of redrum and lava rocks
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| Lock and load, make lots of orphans then
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| make you walk the road, your name Viggo Mortensen
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| My mouth dry taut like chalk rock and porcelain
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| Cut you like a portion at Morton’s, I’m nitroglycerin
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| Green Beret, night vision, Green Lantern light prism
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| Heightened fright exorcism, Battle Axe death division
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| Yeah!
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| «Catalogue of carnage, I am armed to destroy»
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| «You don’t wanna fuck with me, boy» |