| How you doin, let’s see what we have here
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| My name is Dr. Killpatient
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| and I’m your psychosssssigmathetamasochistic
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| Verse One: Rock, Ruck
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| All I, seem to, think about is violence
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| It doesn’t matter if I’m dead sober or I’m bent
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| It’s strange, I’m not insane or at least I don’t think so Or am I? |
| You think so Doc, truthfully I don’t know
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| So what do I do I go to my crew and ask for help
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| But they ain’t no help, they go through the same shit they damn self
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| So I look deep into the mind of a crook
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| Then out of nowhere I envision two right hooks
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| Aww damn, again goes this shit I can’t get out of this cycle, dish one got me whipped
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| From the thought of a brain bashing, Doctor stop me Before I blow my motherfuckin top G See that leather sofa over there? |
| Yeah
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| Sit back with this six-pack and a spliff
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| that have your mind twisted while we chit-chat I like that
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| I think that, we should start with the session Uh-huh
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| But before we begin let me ask you a few questions Uh-huh
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| Have you been touched the wrong way? |
| Nah
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| Involved in gun play Yeah
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| The town let me guess acquited like you was O.J. |
| How you know?
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| Typical black life you jack knifes under a sea biscuit
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| Get specific an stop fuckin around wit that crack rock Yo I don’t smoke doze
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| Yes you do Duke I can tell
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| Cuz you actin funny, like when blacks get money
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| Brummy jazz only married to Jawana
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| and instead of helping you’re getting me heated like a sauna
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| Just trying to get into your head
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| Pardon the way I treat you
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| Tell me bout your scar, did your momma beat you Nah man
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| Fuck the mystery Duke tell me your history
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| You’re pissin me off
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| plus the time keep on clippin see
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| I need a doctor to give me some therapy
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| I need a doctor to check my, my brain
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| Verse Two: Rock, Ruck
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| As I think back, to the nineties
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| That’s when life got extra grimy
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| Multiplied with a fleet behind me Wasn’t smart to try me, physical fam gave less than a Which added on to eighties anger tearing through my inner
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| (Now we’re gettin somewhere, yah) It’s all becoming clear
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| I always feared I have to play the rear til I was outta here
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| That’s when I flipped out and became a plane
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| that transform into a robot Rokk Da Kids was his name
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| (One of them Decep niggaz) Yup takin dope clothes and then some
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| I bend some (did you have any legal source of income?)
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| I said farewell to welfare crazy long ago
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| They want you to work for them peanuts now
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| man you need a shrink if you think I’ma go (huh)
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| Then any thoughts and hopes of rehabilitation
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| were chilled when I lost my nigga Phil it’s been downhill
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| ever since, and ain’t nobody helpin me So I came to you, the Doctor Killpatients for therapy
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| Verse Three: Ruck
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| Bust the prognosis, better yet Duke have a dosage
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| of prescribed poetry that people perceive as potent
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| I’ve been goin through your file and I found a conclusion
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| That you destined to be the best in this world of confusion
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| You lose when you fall victim to evil ways
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| I know crime pays but the rhyme slays nowadays
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| Take two of these and if you have a problem at all
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| I’m on call twenty-four hours to brawl, word is bond
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| This is my number, yaknowhatI’msayin
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| 4−9-5-Nevermind-Nevermind
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| But you that undisputed, and now you theraputic
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| Bootcampian champion
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| The undisputed, with theraputic
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| Bootcampian champion, R-O-C, therapy
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| Chorus: *until fades* |