| We begin our story in L. A
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| Our player’s on a mission: a mission of revenge
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| In a small town, a fire breaks out
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| Shots pierce the air, and a massive killing spree begins
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| Is this just a random act of senseless violence
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| Or is this story deeper?
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| Is there a reason behind these psychotic actions?
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| Welcome to the mind of a contract assassin
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| Whose time has just run out
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| And whose fate will be decided, by you, the listener
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| Running like a bat out of Hell with blind fury
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| Hundred-yard dash, smoking mirrors, eyes blurry
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| Hit the porch bleeding red, seven dead, two in the trunk in the back
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| Scanning through the goggles for the Cadillac, left it running
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| Swiveled my body to the sound of shots, cocked back
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| And let them fly, bullets screaming, left leg bleeding heavy
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| Ducking the sounds of the Chevy that pulled up to the lawn
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| Breathing heavy from the smoke?
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| Jump in the passenger side and hit the pedal?
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| ? |
| ride, I’m half-gone
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| Leather is hot from sitting the sun
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| The chrome burning my leg? |
| puddles of red
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| Screeching out, rubber smoking, I’m ghost, the wheel is broken
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| The door is half-open, my lung? |
| air chokin'
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| Sick the chase kicks this way
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| I’m headed to a small town, just outside the city walls of L. A
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| Destiny ridin', just a matter of time
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| And put it all behind me, bullet holes and bodies
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| Motels and lobbies, ? |
| hell find me
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| I’ll be inside the arms of fate hiding
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| Can’t run from nothing, I’ll just keep fucking
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| Search and kill, ducking 'til they’re all gone
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| Got to do something, can’t just keep running
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| I swear to God I won’t stop the song
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| This road driving got me bugging got me seeing vision
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| This company dealing got me killing children and women, holy God forgive me
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| Now I’m headed to save the very seeds of life
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| ? |
| hands of time supposedly outliving my husband and kids
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| They caught him in a Krispy Kreme on the fly
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| For leaving the company without a reason why
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| They said they’d relocate me to Hell, put my mama in jail
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| I fuck around and leave them all to Satan making a bail
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| Associate’s supposed to get me guns but he switched
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| Found him bloody on a windy Sunday, deep in a ditch
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| I travel from motel to motel, steal whips and kill
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| And cover tracks, laughing, pull off quick
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| Dump the Caddy for a black Impala
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| Slit the neck of a collar or a priest
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| And then a deacon and then I sped off east
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| Reach a rest stop, made out with the cook
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| Snapped his neck, took the truck and bounced and nobody looked
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| Sitting in this car sniffing coke on a dash
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| Tinted windows, Isaac Hayes blast, mind a million miles a second
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| Clothes wrecked hands bloody, brains on the seat
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| Range and Honda and a Dodge Viper parked next to me
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| The motion sensor lights dimmed well
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| The stove lit, twelve butts, three lines, and one L
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| Contemplating suicide, the drugs got me wildin'
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| Complicated of the thoughts, the tears are flying
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| I’m thinking rush the door finally found the kidnappers thinking
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| Wait 'til 4 then bust in and start clapping
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| Should I go? |
| Should I stay? |
| Should I wild? |
| Should I wait?
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| If you choose to rush out the door now, please choose track #7
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| If you choose to wait in the car and think of a plan until 4:00,
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| please choose track #3 |