| This one goes out to my closest pals
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| Who know damn well I should have been dead by now
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| But nevertheless
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| Here I am, dead in the flesh
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| Give you a frontwards wedgie, put your head in your chest
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| Adressin' a dress
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| A lose-lose situation I guess
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| Levitatin' ten steps ahead of the rest
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| And we are about ready to blow, and if it wasn’t for that
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| BEEP!
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| Every second, you idiots wouldn’t know
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| You’re dumb as a bag of nails and dead as a door knob
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| I don’t consider the feminine features a heart throb
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| Finally figured it out if you give it they won’t rob
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| So hand over them valuables, answer to our arms
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| The archery is anger and so is the off beat shit
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| The arsenal is doper than you that you can’t compete with
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| The beef get, rotten it smells some
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| That’s why I don’t stop
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| Cookin' it till it’s well done
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| You scared, go ahead run
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| You and you and you can get it
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| So this is careless misdirection
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| I get more than a little pissed it seems cynical tough
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| I generally never like gettin' in the middle of stuff
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| Fed Kibbles N' Bits, you dog me in the kennel with mutts
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| High hope for a little dick, had to settle for nuts
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| Is pitiful wit so much worse than subliminal diss
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| Rap tactics been gettin' dirtier than gristle and grits
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| If your mineral’s mixed to solid rock than riddle me this
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| Why them hits you droppin' floppin' whiffin' critical miss
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| Store factory rappers come equipped with criminal kits
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| Complete with the crack and chain to match the pistols and clips
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| Plus physically fit as fuck, they’re all tatted and buff
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| With a hat and a fatter tooth for me and stabbed in the guts
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| Drunken, it’s raid the stage after we’re rappin' it up
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| Don’t be mad at me actin' savage cuz you’re average and suck
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| Yo I stay sick in my brain, dodge clippin' the fame
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| Kicks from the frame, flame spit it, it’s all simple and plain
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| Shit |