| The hit man
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| His power is so great
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| That’s for real
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| Ain’t about a whole lotta talk
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| It’s about action, can you dig it?
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| He got the eye and the heart to do it, yeah
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| From the roof with a scope, there’s a whole art to it
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| Ain’t no emotion when he pulls the trigger
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| Brief second of silence, then you see what he do to niggas
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| Pistols, rifles, grenades, whatever
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| He’s a killin' machine, bought and paid for and clever
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| And way iller than the last nigga
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| Smoke a nigga in the club then dance right past niggas
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| Once in a while, there’ll be one who’ll stand out
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| Who’s more than psycho, who’ll take any man out
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| With a certain passion for sendin' bullets blastin'
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| A certain fashion to the way this nigga wax 'em
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| And this assassin gets mad satisfaction
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| From puttin' all this worthless scum out of action
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| A sense of pride in his skill
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| Looks in the mirror and salutes before he rides for the kill
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| You got the bag, pop? |
| I got the thing-thing
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| It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring
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| With the doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo
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| Or do it lawn mower style, rrt
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| You got the bag, pop? |
| I got the thing-thing
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| It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring
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| I got potatoes and the mufflers in the whole thing
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| With the fwt, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa
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| Buckin' at niggas wigs while he’s puffin' on cigs
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| Lay him down, then he bounce out of town to another gig
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| It ain’t nothin', he don’t need many friends
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| Funded different type of weapons, he got plenty of them
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| If you pass him on the street or see him in his spot
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| He’s always calm, cool, collected, very rarely is he not
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| Hit man, with ice in his veins
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| Does the job so precise they up the price with his name
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| Shadowy figure, never too loose with the lip
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| Forty-four long in his coat, deuce-deuce on his hip
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| Baby nine in his boots and his trunk is full
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| This nigga’s on some shit and can’t be fucked with, fool
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| In the grimy world of highly-paid hustlers
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| First they get goons to muscle ya, then get him to touch ya
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| You wouldn’t wanna get in his way, nor his associates
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| Or a tombstone bearin' your name will be appropriate
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| You got the bag, pop? |
| I got the thing-thing
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| It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring
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| With the doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo, doo
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| Or do it lawn mower style, rrt
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| You got the bag, pop? |
| I got the thing-thing
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| It’s in the sling, here it is, let me let it ring
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| I got potatoes and the mufflers in the whole thing
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| With the fwt, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa, doo-pa |