| Who stole my soul? |
| You tryin to kill me, how you gonna kill a dead man?
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| I’m already dead you can’t kill me you God damn bastard!
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| I’m ddeaaaaaaaad
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| I know you tryin ta kill me
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| I’m dead, I’m dead I’m dead, I’m deeeeeaaaaaaaaad
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| I’m comin in but I need some therapy
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| I gotta stay medicated just to keep some clarity
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| My cranium cracked open and started smokin
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| Fire comes outta my mouth when words are spoken
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| I spit this sickness, slit ya wrist with the quickness
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| The wicked one with the wicked tongue
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| I close my eyes and see visions of niggas bustin guns
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| Snatch ya tongue outcha mouth and you’ll hafta hum
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| Come get some, be another victim
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| And I dog fight all night when I hear sick em
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| Because I’m dead (I know you tryin to kill me)
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| Slugs to the head, blood stains on his shirt turn red
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| Never thought I’d get twisted like a dred, deceased so rest in peace I said
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| I’m dead from a bullet from a gun
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| Emptied out two clips not one
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| Narcles raid, you best run or you’ll be locked down can’t see no sun
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| When ya dead, you don’t give a fuck bout what’s goin on
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| Whats on the radio, what a number one song?
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| Bitch don’t blow my bust
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| Cause if you do, I just might hafta put a few in you
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| Cause you don’t have a clue, you know who the fuck you talkin to?
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| Lil' ho, ay yo watch me go Quasimodo
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| So live niggas copy the dead like a photo
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| Never rap about fans named Stan like a ho doe
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| Kill me, Kill me, kill me, kill me |