| Yeah
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| Body, body, body, body
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| Did Grand Theft Auto really teach you how to shoot down helicopters there?
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| Yeah, yeah, I do, it’s just X, A, right trigger
|
| I got a hunger, I got a fever
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| And it just won’t quit
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| I got a temper, I got a bullet
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| With your name on it
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| Everybody wonders what it’s like on top
|
| I don’t gotta wonder 'cause I call the shots
|
| I got a hunger, I got a fever
|
| I got a fresh hit list
|
| My blood runs cold and my feet run faster
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| I still got heart, I hear a heart don’t matter
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| Say what you want and it’ll be your last words
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| It ain’t a secret, I got a hit list
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| And baby, you’re up next
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| Stack 'em up, stack 'em up
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| Teach 'em not to fuck with me
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| Bag 'em up, bag 'em up
|
| Let 'em know who runs these streets
|
| Take 'em down, take 'em down
|
| Count 'em out like one, two, three
|
| Add a-na-na-na-na-na-na-nother one (Yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah, woo, woo, yeah, yeah,
|
| yeah)
|
| To the body count
|
| You think you can stop me, yeah
|
| Oh man, that’s so funny, yeah
|
| I’ll pull out the Uzi, blow your brains out
|
| Then I’m running, yeah
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| This is not a game, ayy, this is not for fame, yeah
|
| Maybe I’m deranged, but fuck it, I can’t complain, yeah
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| Psycho in my vein (Ayy), shootin' with no aim (Ayy)
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| Cleanin' out my chopper (Ayy), bring it out and it let it bang
|
| I might be insane (Ayy), my past is to blame (Ayy)
|
| I’ve been hurt many times, now you gotta feel my pain
|
| I see bodies on bodies, bodies on bodies
|
| Bodies on bodies, mm-hmm
|
| Go in through the lobby, leave in a Audi
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| Hands all bloody, mm-hmm
|
| Ridin' with the top off, roof look like it’s chopped off
|
| Grand Theft Auto taught me how to shoot down helicopters
|
| Bullet with your name on it, spray it, let it rain on 'em
|
| Told you not to fuck with me
|
| Dead, heartless, all the same to me, I got so much rage in me
|
| Told you not to fuck with me (Yeah, yeah)
|
| I got a sickness (Got a sickness), you wouldn’t want this (Nah)
|
| It’s comin' down real bad (Real bad, real bad)
|
| You brought a dull knife (Yeah) into a gun fight (Woo)
|
| You better watch your back (Watch your back, boy)
|
| Don’t you ever wonder what it’s like on top (Yeah)
|
| I don’t gotta wonder 'cause I’m never not (Yuh)
|
| I got a sickness (Got a sickness), I got a hit list (Got a hit list)
|
| And baby, you’re up next (Yeah, yeah, yeah)
|
| My blood runs cold (Runs cold) and my feet run faster (Runnin', baby)
|
| I still got heart (Uh, yeah), I hear a heart don’t matter (Doesn't matter)
|
| Say what you want (What you want) and it’ll be your last words (Yeah)
|
| It ain’t a secret (Yeah), I got a hit list (What?)
|
| And baby, you’re up next (Woo, woo, yeah)
|
| Stack 'em up (Stack 'em up), stack 'em up (Stack 'em up, yeah)
|
| Teach 'em not to fuck with me (Fuck)
|
| Bag 'em up (Bag 'em up), bag 'em up (Bag 'em up, yeah)
|
| Let 'em know who runs these streets (Yeah)
|
| Take 'em down, take 'em down (Take 'em down, down)
|
| Count 'em out like one, two, three (Yeah)
|
| Add a-na-na-na-na-na-na-nother one (Another one)
|
| To the body count |