| You got a bag full of paint, a head full of brain
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| No snow, no rain, ain’t got no complaint
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| Like you high on that Krylon running through your veins
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| You look like a war vet starin at them trains
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| It’s like you zen the fuck out
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| Sittin in the bushes, letting all the bugs out
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| One smoke one beer, when the coast is clear
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| You disappear into your zone stoned on the fear
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| Lookin at scarred box cars
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| Focusing and notice one of the ones most fit
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| Its like that one there, has got your name all over it
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| So that one there, is getting your name all over it
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| Pull a can of sky blue for the outline
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| Sky for the limits, blue for the down time
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| Nerves at blast, disturbin the masses of rats with these thin tips and fat caps
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| Thinking bout your little brother, cause he been tryin hit the yard with you
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| all summer
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| It’s a good thing that you didn’t bring him along
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| Cause that’s when you saw the flashlights singing this song like
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| Run, run, run these yards
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| Run, run, don’t get caught
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| Run, run, every piece understood
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| Run, run, run these yards
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| Run, run, don’t get caught
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| Run, run, every piece understood
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| It wasn’t fast enough, a simple catch
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| Cornered in the parking lot hidin in the trash
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| You heard the footsteps, heart beatin hard
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| Are you gonna have to fight with a trainyard guard?
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| You stepped out on some, yup let’s start this
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| Puffin out your chest like you wasn’t in the garbage
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| And that’s when the universe stopped for you
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| Now your looking straight at a uniformed officer
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| What you think, should you run, run
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| And take a chance at getting some from his stun gun
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| That ain’t one on one, plus he look kinda young
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| The type that might beat your ass just for fun, huh
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| So tell me what the fuck are you supposed to do
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| Already thinking about the cuffs holdin you
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| Already got a few cases over you
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| But then the police man says, no it’s cool
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| What, where’s the punch line, can’t call it
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| Too many paint fumes, musta lost it
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| He handed you your bag and said here, I think you dropped this
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| Cause this cop grew up on hip hop
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| Run, run, run these yards
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| Run, run, don’t get caught
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| Run, run, every piece understood
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| Run, run, run these yards
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| Run, run, don’t get caught
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| Run, run, every piece understood
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| Now do your thing and make the neighborhood look good |