| My mother was a mongrel bitch, she ran from what she saw
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| My pa worked the late shift taking bread from local whores
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| I never learned to read or write until the age of ten
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| And when I found out just what I was I started out again
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| They call me Street Rat, I mess with Street Cats
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| I loved a coal black woman she lived on Thirty Fourth and Vine
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| She kept my hambone in her kitchen and her artichoke was mine
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| Late on Tuesday evening I was cruising by her floor
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| There’s a blood stain on the pillow and brown sugar’s on the floor
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| Well, I’m a Street Rat, Yes I am, I’m gonna get my Payback
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| I’m gonna find that son of a bitch. |
| You hear what happened now? |
| You know what
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| happened to me! |
| I know it’s bad news, but bad news is good news eh?
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| Know what I mean?
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| I axed around a few whores, found the mother’s name was Clyde
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| I found him in a pimpmobile just over the West side
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| I held him by his fur collar and got out my thirty eight
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| Then I emptied all the inside on the outside of his weight
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| Don’t mess with Street Rat, Street Rat
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| You see I’d like to tell y’all about myself 'cause I’m feeling fine but I can
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| hear my main man coming and I’m running out of time
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| Man I’m getting down so far that I’m below ground |