| I’m a creature of the street
|
| And I rip off all the money
|
| I was kicked in the teeth
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| Shoved face first through a window
|
| I got a gangland name
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| And a teardrop tattooed eye
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| They call me Little Caesar in the brotherhood of crime
|
| I know about the pain
|
| Dyin' in an alley with an air-conditioned brain
|
| I know, it’s for real
|
| Flatlined in an ambulance
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| Without a pulse to feel
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| Hey blood brother, you’re one of our own
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| You’re as sharp as a razor
|
| And as hard as a stone
|
| Hey blood brother, you’re bad to the bone
|
| You’re a natural killer
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| In a bad place alone
|
| They call me Smoky Joe
|
| And I’m as thin as a coroner’s needle
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| I got a pocket full of rocks
|
| Man, I shake like a cold chihuahua
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| I got a runny nose
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| And a road map on my arm
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| I blew my gig pokin' 'round the gallery
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| With someone else’s rig
|
| I know, I understand
|
| I watch my body hauled off
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| By the local garbage man
|
| Hey blood brother, you’re one of our own
|
| You’re as sharp as a razor
|
| And as hard as a stone
|
| Hey blood brother, you’re bad to the bone
|
| You’re a natural killer
|
| In a bad place alone
|
| We’re cool, we’re cold
|
| We’re stiff, we’re tagged
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| We’re slabbed, we’re croaked
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| We’re whacked, we’re cracked
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| We’re smoked and cured and
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| slammed and slurred and
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| sliced and diced and put on ice
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| Cooked and stewed and badly brewed
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| And splattered once or twice |