| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Any die, if the beholder the soldier begins to bore
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| Four score, seven bullets (Yeah hit the floor nigga!)
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| Take you outdoor, darkness frightens you even more
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| I’m here to enlighten you, with the hardcore
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| Bring it raw, like the red, dead meat, in your plate
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| And I’ll fill you up with the energy the Hill create
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| I gets sticky, like a green bag of the bomb diggy
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| Now I’m fuckin with your head, and you realize that it’s tricky
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| Got you paranoid, feeling the void, you can’t take it
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| The reward bein destroyed, freakazoid toy
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| With ya mind, all styles deployed, you find danger
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| In the stranger’s eye, the killin comes second nature
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| Your battle filled up the mind it’s fallin out, hear you callin out
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| For help, and all the fuckin yellin to is yourself
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| Crawlin and beggin for mercy means nothing when you bluffin
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| I’m pushin the button
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| And straight dumpin on fools frontin
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| Boo-yah… come on, motherfucker
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| War pigs, you dig, see kickin out Mr. Big
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| Take a sip of wine, engage in a battle of the mind (Checkmate motherfucker!)
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| You feelin the force, meant for remorse, right from the source
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| Your head is, gettin fucked and I’m skippin the intercourse
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| Behold, the Mic Horse, you’re takin a loss nigga
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| Got the Nina Ross, don’t need no cross, my fuckin paper
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| Chaser green bag gladiator, terminator weed germaniator
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| The greater the risk you fuckin hater
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| Hit you with the pyscho beta, clickin the fader slow
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| With the Hi-Lo, servin the blow, who got the glow
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| Dead men tale no tales, you fail to see the reason
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| I’m easing to squeeze the trigger, go figure, it’s killin season
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| Nighty-night, mothafucka
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra
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| Pam pa ra ra |