| What?
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| Fuck what you think, bitch
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| Fuck what you thought
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| Till my corpse rot, deadboy to the top
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| Try to give it what you got but what you got ain’t enough
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| Time to hang to it up take a walk-in lunch
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| Everything I touch a bud will always get touched
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| Skeleton hands remain through the flood
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| Floating down the street up to no good
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| I done see ya hood now let me take you to the woods
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| Decomposing, decomposing
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| Every second decomposing
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| Decomposing, decomposing
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| Every second decomposing
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| Put some silica gel packs inside my casket
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| Don’t need to mold already live thru that shit
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| Hold to the story if they keep on asking
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| «Bones, who did you sign too?», — yes, I’d imagine
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| That it would seem that way, now tell me is it good or bad
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| The hundred dollar bill pass just for the wood packs
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| No, not at all it was El that booked that
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| If you want a show it depends how I feel bitch
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| I won’t flip for some bills, bitch
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| Do a frickin' cartwheel for 8 dollars
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| «I won’t do a cartwheel for 8 dollars» |