| All right! |
| When we go up in this goddamn house
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| All I want is the motherfuckin' kids!
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| As far as pops I don’t give a fuck what you do…
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| Bust him in his motherfuckin' head!
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| If he got any money, take it!
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| If there is money there, rob the motherfuckin' joint!
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| As far as moms bust her in her goddamn head!
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| Dumb bitch, that’s the reason we’re going up in there!
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| She don’t know what the fuck she’s talkin' about!
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| Everyone get back, this is a rap jack
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| I’m takin' your kids' brains, you ain’t gettin’em back
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| With a move of perfection, my dissection
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| Some call it lethal injection
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| I’m gonna fill’em with hard drums
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| Big drums, bitches, hoes and death, come on and get some
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| I’m not the nigga that you want to leave your kids alone with
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| Cause I got my own opening-dome kit
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| And once again I’m gonna put them under my fuckin' spell
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| They might start givin' you fuckin' hell
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| Start changin' the way they walk
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| They talk, they act, now, whose fuckin' fault is that?
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| The home invader…
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| Yo, moms you can basically just suck my dick!
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| This is a home invasion…
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| Yo, pops that shit you talkin' is noise! |
| Word! |
| You full of shit!
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| Check this out, moms, I said time bomb
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| And they sit in your house and remain calm
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| Till you feed’em lies and the flip
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| Start talkin' crazy shit (Fuck you!)
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| Might call you and pops a fool
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| Tell ya that’s why they hate school
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| Been offensive and askin' questions
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| Give your brain indigestion
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| Why? |
| Why? |
| Because I have indoctrinated the youth
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| Yhey’re mentally intoxicated with truth
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| So they know the noise you talk are lies
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| Pretty damn soon they’ll be by (I'm outta here)
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| They listen to me and I give’em the real
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| And every night caps get peeled
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| And every night a ho gets smacked
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| A fool gets jacked
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| Now, whose fuckin' fault was that?
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| The home invaders…
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| Yo! |
| Yo! |
| Yo!
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| All that shit you taught me, mom, was full of shit!
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| Know what I’m sayin'?
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| How the fuck you gonna tell me to run my motherfuckin' life?
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| Bitch! |
| You dont even know who the fuck you are!
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| You talkin' about you don’t like rap, you don’t like how I dress!
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| Yo! |
| Fuck you and pops! |
| I’m outta here!
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| Both of y’all can kiss my ass…
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| All cops want me, so does the F.B.I
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| Because my rhymes are fly
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| They still tryin' to stop me, shut me down, block me
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| Make motherfuckas boycott me
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| But that will never happen, it’s impossible
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| I move straight through all obstacles
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| They say I’m fuckin' up the minds of little kids
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| But half of my fans are in college
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| P.M.R.C. |
| suck my dick, please
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| You can kiss my ass while you’re on your knees
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| Word! |
| You’re listening to the verbal assassinator
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| E’s the crossfader, your factual updater
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| Until your cranium grows like uranium
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| Hard as titanium, parents, I’m blamin’em
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| For teachin' you lies about life, racist viewpoints
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| And other trite bullshit they learned back in the day
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| While I learned about death from an A. K
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| But they’ll never quite understand
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| Bam, bam, bam, no gat is the Walkman
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| Boom, bash, yeah, yo, it’s goin' down
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| Me and Ice Cube are in town
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| But the fuckin' pigs cancelled the concert
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| They’re just scared of some niggers that do work
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| What they do? |
| What did I do?
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| Just say truth motherfucka and it’s comin' through
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| I tell you what we did: we stole your fuckin' kids
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| The home invader…
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| All right! |
| we got the motherfuckin' kids!
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| We outta here! |
| C’mon… |