| Paranoid, sittin in a deep sweat
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| Thinkin I gotta fuck somebody before the week ends
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| The sight of blood exites me, shoot you in the head
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| Sit down, and watch you bleed to death
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| I hear the sound of your last breath
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| Shouldn’t have been around, I went all the way left
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| You was in the right place with me at the wrong time
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| I’m a psychopath, in a minute lose my fuckin mind
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| Calm down, back to reality
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| Don’t fear death, cause I know that it’s promised to me Flashes, I get flashes of Jason
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| Gimme a knife, a million lives I’m wastin
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| The shadow of death follows me, I don’t give a fuck
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| Pussy play Superman, your ass’ll get boxed up Put him in a straight jacket, the man’s sick
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| This is what goes on in the mind of a lunatic
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| (He's a paranoiac who’s a menace to our society)
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| (He's a) (He's a)
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| (He's a paranoiac who’s a menace to our society)
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| Lookin through her window, now my body is warm
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| She’s naked, and I’m a peepin tom
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| Her body’s beautiful, so I’m thinkin rape
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| Shouldn’t have had her curtains open, so that’s her fate
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| Leavin out her house, grabbed the bitch by her mouth
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| Drug her back in, slammed her down on the couch
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| Whipped out my knife, said, If you scream, I’m cuttin
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| Opened her legs and commenced the fuckin
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| She begged me not to kill her, I gave her a rose
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| Then slit her throat, and watched her shake till her eyes closed
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| Had sex with the corpse before I left her
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| And drew my name on the wall like helter skelter
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| Run for shelter never crossed my mind
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| I had a guage, a grenade, and even a nine
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| Dial 911 for the bitch
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| But the cops ain’t shit when they’re fuckin with a lunatic
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| (Another innocent victim of this homicidal maniac)
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| (Maniac) (Maniac)
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| (Another innocent victim of this homicidal maniac)
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| I sit alone in my four-cornered room starin at candles
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| Dreamin of the people I’ve dismantled
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| I close my eyes and in the circle
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| Appears the images of sons of bitches that I murdered
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| Flashbacks of bodies bein fucked up Once I attack, I’m like a pit on a rage that’s goin for guts
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| Boys used to die when I’m full fo that fry
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| I be ebbin when I’m high
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| So I say 'fuck'and just let bullets fly
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| Like I said before, Scarface is my identity
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| A homicidal maniac with sucidal tendencies
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| I’m on the violent tip, so yo, get a grip
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| And bitch, come equipped, ain’t takin no shit
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| Cause here comes a lunatic
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| My girl’s gettin skinny, she’s strung out on coke
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| So I went to her mother’s house and cut out her throat
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| Her grandma was standin there, she was screamin out, Brad!
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| As she reached for the telly, I put the blade on granny’s ass
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| Went to the back and grabbed a shovel
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| Now granny’s on her way to meet the devil
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| Pulled out my .38 and aimed at the bitch
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| A cop says (Freeze, muthafucka!) Bitch, suck my dick
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| I said, Die, muthafuckas! | 
| as I blasted
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| Something clicked in my head, visions of bodies in plastic
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| The scent of buckshots in human flesh
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| Pigs dyin from bullet wounds to the chest
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| No sheriff’s gonna take me on a road
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| Dark as fuck, and let his pistols explode
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| Fuck that, cause I ain’ts to die
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| So I reloaded my Uzi and fired up another fry
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| It got me crazy as fuck
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| A ragin psychotic full of that Angel’s Dust
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| The cops had the place surrounded
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| Hunted for a way to get out — I found it Innocent bystanders watch me set an ex&le
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| I popped one, Let me go, goddammit
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| Scot free
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| Or all of these muthafuckas comin with me All of a sudden the shit got silent
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| I remember wakin up, in an asylum
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| Bein treated like a troubled kid
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| My shirt was all bloody, and both of my wrists was slit
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| Think this is harsh? | 
| This ain’t as harsh as it gets
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| No tellin what’s bein thought up in the mind of a lunatic
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| (Maniac)
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| (Maniac)
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| (Ma-) (Mani-) (Maniac)
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| (I can’t quit)
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| November 1st 1966
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| A damn fool was born with the mind of a lunatic
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| I shoulda been killed
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| But sister fucked around and let me live
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| Now I developped a criminal behaviour
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| Fuck with me, and I’ll slay ya Ass, beyond recognition, shit
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| Your dental records couldn’t prove your identity, bitch
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| I beg your pardon, on talkin to borden
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| You’ll never find a muthafucka, so save your milk cartons
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| Cross the line, your ass is mine
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| I don’t give a fuck if you’re 9 or 99
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| Blind, crippled, and crazy, don’t faze me Your funky ass will be pushin up daisies
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| You wanna know what makes me click?
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| My psychiatrist said I got the mind of a lunatic
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| (Let's get out of here, that guy is crazy)
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| (Ma-) (Ma-) (Ma-) (Maniac)
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| I ain’t got it all, so don’t fuck with me Unless your ass wanna be made history
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| I’ll blow your muthafuckin house up And if your wife and kids are inside, they’re fucked
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| I don’t give a damn who I slay
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| Don’t let me get a hold of some E&J
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| Cause when the shit hit the fan
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| I’ll stab your ass quicker than a Mexican
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| The nightmares I leave you with on the scene
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| Will make Freddy bitch ass look like a wet dream
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| This is fact, not fictional, son of a bitch
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| I got the mind of a lunatic |