| Yeah motherfucker!
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| Stay right there.
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| I just wanna thank personal and foremost all the fans
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| For supporting me from day one.
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| My label, God, brothers sisters, family members.
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| Definitely everybody I see it
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| I drove all the way from Detroit
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| Back seat full of weapons
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| If I’d got pulled over they’d be dead in seconds
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| Without a hitch, I arrive on the 405
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| The Staples Center
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| Tonight is the grammys… live
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| Don’t got no ticket
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| But I ain’t here to scream and applaud
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| I’ve come to kill Chris Brown and shock this industry crowd
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| Fuck 'em dead in his seat
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| Blow his guts out of his tux
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| He beat the hell out his women
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| And they still on his nuts
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| The fuckin message that is sending
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| Must have a bloody endin
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| Posing at security but he ain’t safe from just pretendin
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| Bruno Mars on stage, cameras live TV
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| That bitch forgive him but still
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| He’s gotta die to me
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| Big record companies, executives VIPs watchin
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| Probably cover up his head hookers
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| Big business applaulin
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| But the under ground below don’t approve
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| And so he flex he had his chance on top he fucked up
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| Make room for the next
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| He stood up to applaud the show put on by Lady Gaga
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| Blew a cyanide dart into his throat like «gotcha»!
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| He fell back dead, stuck smilin, eyes open as the night went
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| They thought he was just dazed happy from all the excitment
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| BUT I KILLED HIM!
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| What If I killed him?
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| A piggy has to have wings
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| Before it can fly |