| Inside of a smoke filled, no frills, watering hole
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| An old man kicks the jukebox, stubbing his toe
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| The bartender glances up with a stare so cold
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| And tells the man that «if you do that shit again you can go»
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| It’s either too loud or no sound, torn up or broke down
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| Everything’s extreme, Sped up or slowed down
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| Gang signs and call girls, soft white and crack sales
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| For business men the model is «don't ask don’t tell»
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| I’m a creature of the night so i been here before
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| Ordered a drink to try to swallow what i saw at the store
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| A petty criminal was shot, put down like a dog
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| But I still can’t find the killers I’m looking for
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| Despite the fact that I’ve been on the hunt every day
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| I’m starting to fell the situation slowly slipping away
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| For what I did, another innocent kid had to pay
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| But I’mma make it right and not let those punks get away
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| I’m at a dark booth scraping paint from off my mask
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| Using a blade that I usually kept inside of my bag
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| In my own world until I heard the sound of a glass hit the floor full of beer
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| and the customers laugh
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| By the volume of the sound I could tell it was close
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| Beer splashed on my eyelash and all on my coat
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| Lift my eyes and see the chick who’s glass just broke
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| She staring at me all shook like she just saw a ghost
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| Reached back for my knife, asked if there’s a problem
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| She grabbed my hand and said «no» in a tone that was calming
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| Her body was bad, accent was foreign
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| Her name was Tasha, sat down then started talking
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| She said, «you don’t know me, but I know who you are
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| From that night I got attacked and escaped with this scar
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| I got some information that you might be interested in
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| The two kids that tried to rape me and killed that kid.» |