| I think it’s funny how… the toughest criminals and thugs and whatever…
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| when they’re on their death bed…
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| you know like the day before they fry in the electric chair…
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| all of a sudden they want to get religious.
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| I heard that 9 out of 10 inmates on death row are all ultra religious.
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| That’s because they know they’re about to die.
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| That they are about the meet whatever’s after death.
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| It’s funny… nobody wants to turn to god till it’s too late.
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| Till it’s time for you to fuckin' die
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| Baggin me
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| Pain
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| Suffering
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| Bang Bang
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| Chains
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| Devices
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| Torture things
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| Is this hell?
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| Might as well be
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| It’s what’s next and shit
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| I live life filthy
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| We sexed every bitch in the gutter
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| Then we rob or mudda
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| Find a shutta
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| And shoot fo or fo each otha
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| I blame it all on the people around me
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| It’s because of them god never found me
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| Right? |
| (wrong)
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| Before I hit the ground
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| When I got three in the chest
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| I should’ve guessed my time was over
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| Should’ve worn the fucking vest
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| But I wasn’t thinking straight
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| Caught up in the thug life
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| Was the king on the streets
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| Now I’m asking god to take my life
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| To the pearly gates
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| So I can rest peacefully
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| But he wasn’t helping me
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| Why has he forsaken me?
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| To eternity in hell
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| Left to rot in the grave
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| And if it wasn’t for the Lotus
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| I’d still be there today
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| Call upon your gods
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| Beg for them to help you
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| Call upon your gods
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| Religion has left you
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| Got a final hour
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| Cross the final line
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| Life will end
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| But there is no end to time
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| Call upon your gods
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| Beg for them to help you
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| Call upon your gods
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| Religion has left you
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| Got a final hour
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| Cross the final line
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| Life will end
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| But there is no end to time
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| Skin seperates from bone
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| Seperates from bone
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| One hot flash of metal
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| Now your on this earth alone
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| Laying face down in you’re own blood
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| With nowhere to turn
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| Everything from your finger tips to toes burn
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| Heat sets skin deep
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| Open up your eyes
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| The cold clutch of death’s hand
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| He could care less about your life
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| As Hell’s Chariots come to carry you away
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| You finally realize
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| It’s to late to pray
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| Help me out
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| I can’t understand the way you think
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| Or what you’re talking about
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| I see you sitting
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| Perfect circles
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| With disciples of Satan
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| I got my shotgun cocked
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| Newspapers and revelations
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| Every bullet is a story
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| They keep it glorified
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| The media’s the target
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| And now they gots to die
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| Son of Sam
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| Sam of son
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| Buck you with my shotgun
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| Wicked work will be done
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| Fuck it catch a hot one
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| There ain’t no end in time
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| You hear me hethan bitch boy?
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| Bite your devil tongue
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| Before I stab you with this pitch fork
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| All that shit you talk about
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| «My God is ashamed»
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| Crying in pain
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| Calling his name
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| Your such a hypocrite
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| Low down inconsiderate
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| Piece of shit
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| And you ain’t worth an ounce of spit
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| Blasphemous
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| Dissing my lord
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| And clocked out
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| Where’s the tough guy
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| That told my God to go and fuck himself?
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| I called apon my god
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| He told me which path to take
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| I just hope it’s not another mistake
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| Confused by the things that I’m feeling
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| Guns that I carry, hoes that I’m drilling
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| Tell me is this just another fucked situation
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| Calling on my God cause he’s the cause of all creation
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| Never was told things would be like this
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| Always visioned that my life would be filled with happiness
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| What |