| Chorus:
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| Shit ain’t never gonna change. |
| FUKKIT!
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| Time to load the clips — THEN WE TAKE EM TO WAR
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| Niggaz wanna flip — THEN WE TAKE EM TO WAR
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| Break a nigga proper — THEN WE BREAK HIM SOME MORE
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| I represent the murderers and felony offenders
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| who either bought time out, to get these legal tenders
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| (Surrender!) Nah, I’m goin out with a bang nigga
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| FUCK PATAKI, I gotta do my thang nigga
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| Forty-four mag, bustin into action
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| Brains left in particles, fragments and fractions
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| Grimm, the money stacker, heat packer
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| I’m lurkin, I’m waitin, attackin like a linebacker
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| Fuck what you heard, crime pays
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| and always, unorthodox, I hold my pistol sideways
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| We kill crews, hearts go numb
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| and if retaliation comes then yo fuck it, it just comes
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| (Yo who you?) I’m Dr. Death motherfucker ever heard of me?
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| Close your eyes, cross your fingers, time for surgery
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| I’m already dead, so nah, you can’t murder me cause quantities of entities enter me evilly
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| Chorus: repeat 2X
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| Since I murder for hire, rapid fire’s what I require
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| Makin niggaz perspire, so send a message through the wire
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| cause violence is contagious, it got me bustin gauges
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| The '95 Larry Davis and I’m wettin niggaz for wages
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| Queens is the home of 1, the known felon
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| and ain’t no tellin, when I’ma crack your fuckin melon
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| For the right amount of chips, I spit clips and hit whips
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| Leavin niggaz bloody, the leather seats is where the shit drips
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| with the pound-seven, I be creepin, rockin niggaz while they sleepin
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| Shots repeatin, leavin faggot niggaz leakin
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| When I cock back the iron, niggaz is dyin, marchin to Zion
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| cause the pound-cake, roars like a lion
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| Word son, niggaz be collapsin, cause my weapons is ready for action, makin your heart catch contractions
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| In the underworld, shootin gallery niggaz lose calories
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| cause my salary’s based on fatalities
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| Chorus: repeat 2X
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| Here I come to get some motherfuckin wreck but first I gotta
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| umm vest check, uncheck, clip one check, clip two check, I’m set
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| So let a motherfucker move a muscle
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| When I tussle they’ll be piecin niggaz back like fuckin puzzles
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| Cause Kool G. Rap is known for bringin mad noise, a bad boy
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| When I was younger always carried guns, I never had toys
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| Grimm, gimme the infrared they see me and I’m puttin red dots
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| on niggaz foreheads to makin motherfuckers indian
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| You got beef? |
| Go get yourself a wreath, because it’s murder
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| cause I put holes in my beef like fuckin White Castle burgers
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| So now I gots to run up on a clown with the fo'-pound
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| Cock back, rock black, gun a nigga down
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| I see em, he’s comin out the fuckin coliseum
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| and hopped into a BM, shit!
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| Put in my clip and then I dipped into the ride that my man had
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| Parked on the sidewalk, then we start to glide
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| I’m rainin on him (faster nigga) oh yeah we’re gainin on him
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| (oh shit he’s with somebody else) fukkit, put his brain on him
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| Boom boom, no survivors, lifted the nigga out his seat
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| When they find him, he’ll be a backseat driver
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| But I ain’t finished with the trigger yet, I’m lightin up a cigarette
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| Bang bang, I left the other nigga wet
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| It’s G. Rap baby, you know me, you try to hurt this
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| I split your fuckin top and leave a fingerprint on purpose! |