| just because you know my name fool, i don’t have your back
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| but put some pep in your step and get the fuck on before i have hen flashbacks and get my fuck on but a lot of motherfuckers seem to think i’m satanic
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| (why?) but makin sick shit from the mind is automatic (hahaha)
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| grab a motherfucker is my motherfuckin thang
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| and i slang these thangs like cocaine (i slang em)
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| and muslims hate me but i don’t know why (i don’t either)
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| is it because i say fuck you and your bean pies?
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| and no, i don’t want no final call
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| i smoke skunk and still say man to all
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| cause i’m the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker
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| mo money, mo money, it’s the black Jim Bakker
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| take naps in a coffin, sleep in a body bag
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| only paper that i like is money or zig-zags
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| rolled a blunt for that fool i didn’t know (he didnt know)
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| Dre Dog get his amp from the lord indo
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| nigga do it, nigga good, do it for a ho
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| i got an axe to open up your chest just like a front door (open up your
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| chest)
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| an axe to open up your back just like a back door (back door)
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| and money for the cents i got the best indo
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| cause i never was a kid, my heart was too cold
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| when I came out my momma’s pussy i was 12 years old (hahaha)
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| with long fingernails for the cocaine (long fingernails)
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| rough ass hands for the skull rings (skull rings)
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| potent ass dank for a fuck ring
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| and some sucka free niggas when i gang bang
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| so kneel down and bow to the sick one
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| i’ll have the devil coming out your damn eardrums (eardrums)
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| and when you see him say my name fool, don’t scream
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| so cut your dick you punk bitch it was a wet dream (haha)
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| it don’t stop…
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| but i snort caine and it gets me ripped
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| but i smoke blunts and it gets me bent
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| yeah, but i snort caine and it gets me ripped
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| but i smoke blunts and it gets me bent
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| i should buy a cemetery and get much bigger (why?)
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| and make money off you dead ass niggas (hahahaha)
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| but fool you don’t hear me (what?), niggas fear me (why?)
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| but they wanna get near me (who are you?)
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| the six five devil’s son, (who?) I said the devil’s son (who?)
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| can you find a more wicked one? |
| (no)
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| that can creep through the night like a wicked witch
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| smokin ty stick (what?), on a broomstick (yeah)
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| because a nigga like me like to shake right
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| Now watch me jack off by your mother’s gravesite (did you know her?)
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| because I knew her, and i fucked her, and i missed the cock (uhhhh)
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| but here’s a pipe without the knife on how i rip shop
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| the most hated man in Frisco’s in your brain now
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| smokin chewy, you got me sick but im insane now
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| so give me body like Latifah and i might beat cha (everybody)
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| with my beanie on i look just like the grim reaper (hahahaha)
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| pony tail, saggy pants, bulletproof vest (what?)
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| like an alien, Dre Dog is coming through your chest (through your chest)
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| i’m not a cat, i don’t scratch, i got long nails (meow)
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| i’m a pisces but i’d rather be a killa whale (killa whale)
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| don’t turn your back, look how you act when i come to town (Frisco)
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| praise my name, kiss my ring, now bow down
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| sick material,
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| now don’t you know my voice is good for fuckin’up your stereo (yeah)
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| now Dre Dog account for cash, whoop that ass,
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| make the blast, (hahahaha) with a sinister laugh
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| but I snort caine and it gets me ripped
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| but I smoke blunts and it gets me bent
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| but I snort caine, I snort caine
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| fire up the blunts nigga, I’m ghost |