| Uh, 1−2, 1−2
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| Yo, this one goes out to everybody out there that’s…
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| Walkin' on da flatline, out they mind
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| Walkin' on da flatline, nine, when I rhyme
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| I’m flyin' in a Benz two-seata, holdin' on my heata
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| Need a green leaf (bitch) don’t getcha' ass smoked like reefa
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| Sendin' you quicker to meetcha muthafuckin' Jesus, believe this
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| Hell on earth, how much is your life worth
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| For 36 O’s I’ll leave you with ya eyes closed
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| Forever doze, I arose, the 'Day of the Dead'
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| Comin' through wit the ooh just to paintcha down red
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| I said 'Unholy' you got scared
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| 'Cuz the day I rolled around the world wasn’t prepared
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| My style venomous, ending lust and with us a Mausburg bust
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| Bitches, I ball and I’ll never stall
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| So give me a call, I’ll murder you all
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| Y’all gonna fill in time, the chalk line
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| Walk da flatlines
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| Another evil day, music melodic, Reel Life Product
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| Mechanical, my mind’s smokin botanicals
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| Deconstruct then reconstruct your whole structure
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| Roll ya block 'till it rupture
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| If ya get knocked off ya money is still cluster
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| Gettin' clocked by another hustler
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| In this game there ain’t no 'trust us'
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| There ain’t no justice, so if you fuck us, bullets will bust
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| Retaliation is a must, plus
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| A code of silence to this underworld violence
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| Violence, violence
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| A code of silence to this underworld violence
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| Blood money, cocaine got my nose runny
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| But I somehow still manage to stay scummy
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| Run over you in the truck like a crash test dummy
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| My star to the bitches 'round the world, they love me
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| But ain’t no love for these hoes, I treat 'em all like foes
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| Smoke 'em wit' the .44 like hydros
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| Money is the key to end all ya woes
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| Ya ups, ya downs, ya gettin' highs, gettin' lows
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| But money be the root of all evil I suppose
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| That same evil’s got blood stains on my clothes
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| That same evil’s got blood stains on my clothes
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| That same evil’s got blood stains on my clothes |