| A tough boy and a bully
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| «What you wanna fight me for?
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| I’m like five feet four and you like six foot five three quarters
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| Yeah so I look down and I do nothin'
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| And I never come around whene’er you come in
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| 'Cause you always wanna fight and I hate your types
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| Every time we go out, you gotta prove somethin'
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| If somebody look at him then he’s gonna fall quick
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| Tall kid, just pickin' on small kids
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| Man if I was that tall, I’d never feel small
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| I’m bettin' that you probably got a small dick."
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| Does it make you feel big when throw that punch?
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| Did you feel like you the bizz when you hol' that gun?
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| Did you feel like you the itch when you stole that lunch?
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| Did you think about the kid you stole that from?
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| 'Cause you know he feels hurt, wantin' revenge
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| Starting think 'bout murder; |
| ain’t sleep since
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| He just wanna go to school and go meet friends
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| But every time he gets to school he’s on defense
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| Lookin' out for the kid tryin' to beat him up
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| So he hides his lunch money in his
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| Doesn’t even eat lunch 'cause he ain’t about beef
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| Then he get to high school and people eat him up
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| All he every really wanted was a little respect
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| And now he’s sittin' at the table with the rejects
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| Momma asks what’s wrong and he deflects
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| 'Cause he got a cause and he worried 'bout the effects
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| And every time he gets roughed up
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| Somethin' get mucked up
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| Murder in his eyes be
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| 'Cause even though he piss poor, Jake found somethin' to live for:
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| Murderin' John Doe
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| Man I hate being
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| Bullies bullies bullies
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| I wanna kill my
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| So I’m finna kill my
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| (Look) John Doe about 17, had a rough life
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| Nothing like a fam' on a billboard
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| Love he ain’t never seen, little love life
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| And some love from the fam' he would kill for
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| All he ever wanna do is make pops proud
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| But all he ever hear from him is «not now»
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| Says, «wanna shoot hoops?», gets shot down
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| Then he go and pull on his shoes and we walks out
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| His mama got sick and she passed away
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| So he’s stuck with his pops for the time bein'
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| When his mom got sick, well his ass was blamed
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| So every day little John got five beatin’s
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| And you know he finna fight when he go' to school
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| 'Cause ever he get at home is an ass beatin'
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| And every time he in a fight, every broken rule
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| Well you know he finna come home to his dad beefin'
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| He’s beat every time that he gets detention
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| When he’s beat: only time that he gets attention
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| What’s love? |
| Gettin' beat. |
| What a sick dimension
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| How the heck could he see that from his perspective?
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| Our suspension for the red rage
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| Been at home gettin' beat for like ten days
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| And he tryna play it cool but he hates school
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| And beatin' up other kids is how he vents pain
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| So he curse and he scrap, only way to feel
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| And he learned from his dad it’s a way to heal
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| Starts havin' day dreams that he has what the other kids have
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| So he steal and me make 'em real
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| And he can only get hurt if he let’s 'em close
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| So he’s thinkin' ice cold is his best emotion
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| He came alone, and then left alone
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| And went home not knowing what he set in motion
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| Man I hate being
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| Bullies bullies bullies
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| I wanna kill my
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| So I’m finna kill my
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| Bully, Bully, Bully
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| (Look) About midnight
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| Jake sneaks into his dad’s room like a bad son
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| Tip-toein' And he held his breath with each step
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| Then he stepped in the hall with his dad’s gun
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| Put the gun inside a rag inside the base of his backpack
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| And went and laid down, tryna calm himself
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| 'Cause he knows that he can’t turn back; |
| he’s past that
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| And he’s about to right every wrong he’s felt
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| Jake got to school and skipped class
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| Then he went to back of the school where John’s at
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| Thinkin' to himself, «Jake this is it
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| 'Member every single time you were punked by John’s ass.»
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| That’s about the time that his heart started racin'
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| And that’s about the time he saw John throw a kid down
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| And that’s about the time that he jumped out screamin'
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| «Here I am little punk, who’s big now?»
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| «That's for every time you punked me»
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| «And that for every time you punched me»
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| «And that’s for every time you jumped me»
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| «Oh my god! |
| What did I just do?
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| God forgive me. |
| Please forgive me!
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| 'Cause I’ve got one thing left to do»
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| Yeah, people wanna point fingers at the kids though
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| Ain’t no body born evil, you’ve gotta learn evil
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| You do what we see as a kid so
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| When I see mom and dad on the news like, «he wouldn’t do that»
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| Well enough, as a parent, I can see that you ain’t been around enough
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| As a parent, I mean if that was my kid I’d be the one that’s embarrassed
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| Why the hell do you think he just wants to shoot things?
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| As kids all we do is just watch you do things
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| And we get sprung when we try some new things
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| Like a little sponge when you walk us through things
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| Yeah so, here’s an «Eff you»
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| To bad moms, and dads, and the kids that bully us
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| And after hearing this song
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| Well, who you think the real bully was? |