| Killas
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| Everyone’s a killa now-a day
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| Killas
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| Let me tell you about some killa shit
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| Yo, everyone’s a killa
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| The first time killas made an attempt on my life
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| It was all about some money, it was funny
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| So I laughed, blood bathed it off
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| That bastard’s soft
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| Grab my pistol, I’m shootin' missiles
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| Here’s how you can be a super rap star and people try to kill you too
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| It’s funny like that when you rap about death
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| The shit really follows you like every other breath
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| Watch ya step, a thousand black crows fly through the sky
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| I hear voices in my head, everyone must die
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| Why? |
| I dunno, shot another rapper wit' the .44
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| What the fuck fo'?
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| Deep in my psychosis lives this ferocious monster
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| That just wants to crush, grab guns, squeeze triggas, bullets bust
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| Still can’t get enough, what a rush
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| Blood stains soak the plush
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| Carpet, oh shit
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| Brain matter all over the room scattered
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| Killas don’t talk but stalk the streets
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| I’m a complete cannibal, cookin' ya dead meat
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| The Seventh Sign, walk da flatline
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| Forever through time, eternally out my mind
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| While you keep tryin' to save souls from dyin'
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| And Hell is still hot and muthafuckas still fryin'
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| And I ain’t lyin' about abortion
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| 'Cuz you can 'KKKill the Fetus' and still hear ya baby cryin'
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| Everyone… must…die (Everyone must die)
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| Everyone must die, I have no excuses for mental abuses
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| My uzi is useless without the clip in it
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| Deep inside the darkness I slowly slip in it
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| Murder by the minute, true confessions of a Smith and Wesson
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| Livin' in Detroit all my life caused me to 'Mental Stress' and
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| 'Panic Attack' and manic depression
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| Blastin' any assassin, askin' no questions
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| Murder for hire, my guns won’t retire, you’ll forever feel the fire
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| Your desire to die collides with my obsession to just let slugs fly
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| Why must I live like this?
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| Blood stains on the floor from my slit wrists
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| Suicidalist, mental poisionest, the flow grows slow into a dark Lotus
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| 'Dead Flowerz' in the 'Midnight Hour'
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| All people kill for the powder of power
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| Whichever comes first before the guns burst
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| Life indepentent or the back of a hearse
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| What’s worse than a wicked rhyme I disperse?
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| Shells from a gun as I yell and curse
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| Shells from a gun as I yell and curse
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| The shells from a gun as I yell and curse |