| Loaded burner, blade in a calf holster
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| Walkie talkie to communicate with the chauffeur
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| Map of the block to escape when it’s over
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| Looking like a killer, feeling like a soldier
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| The smell of perfume from having Tasha in my bed
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| Sticks to my fingertips and still lingers in the air
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| She told me about a hot spot named The Dragon’s Lair
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| Off a backstreet up out by the state fair
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| She guarantee me every Sunday they be there
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| Playing pool and sniffing coke up until the AM
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| She met 'em both back when she used to bartend
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| But said they’d be hard to touch cause the gang that they roll with
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| No fear, ice is flowing through my veins
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| Surveyed the spot last night and it’s all arranged
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| I know where they hang plus where they lay their heads
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| They can confess to what they did or they can end up dead
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| Had to drop me off three blocks from the spot
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| Then park across the street in an open lot
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| Put on my gas mask and took the alley just to creep up
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| Black trench coat looking like the grim reaper
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| Black assassin waiting for 'em after dark inside of a dumpster
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| Twenty feet from where they park
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| Quiet as a church mouse, silent as a beating heart
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| Then the fat one stumbled out with a fat blunt to spark
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| I knew the owner didn’t let them smoke in the bar
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| So they usually walked out to the dumpster way behind their cars
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| He took a couple pulls and blasted off to outer space
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| Pulled out my pepper spray and caught him right in his face
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| Hopped out, he started screaming, punched him in his jaw
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| The force from the punch made him bite down on his tongue
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| «How it feel, fat boy? |
| Now you all alone!
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| Remember me?» |
| pushed him to the ground and kicked his balls
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| He tearing up like «oh shit, I thought you was dead!»
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| «Naw man you and your mans killed the wrong kid
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| I could kill you now for the sake of revenge
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| Or you can come with me and tell the cops what you did»
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| Heard footsteps, turned around, they’re coming fast
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| Two white t-shirts, two big dudes with red rags
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| Side-stepped the first one but slipped on some broken glass
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| The second one caught me hard enough that it cracked my mask
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| Fell back a little dazed but knew he broke his hand
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| Acted hurt but pepper sprayed him when he circled in
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| First cat back now, he’s swinging that wild
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| Duck stuck my life into his stomach, made him take a bow
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| Three dudes laid down, back to the fat one
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| He spit in my face he say «fuck you, I ain’t doing nothing!»
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| I put my blade to his neck and started slowly cutting
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| Heard a shotgun pump then I heard it start dumping
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| Moved just in time, the shot hit the fat dude
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| Blew the face right off the skull it was attached to
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| He pumped again I could see the short motherfucker
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| Second shot blow a hole right through that old dumpster
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| Can’t hide much longer gotta make a break
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| Buck shots from a third shot almost hit my face
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| I saw lights from a car pulling in the strip
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| Thinking it’s a cop car, I take it as my chance to dip
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| Fourth shot hit the window of somebody’s whip
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| I’m hauling ass fast as possible until I slip
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| He got the drop on me, but I still pull my nine
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| His body drop but I swear that shot wasn’t mine |