| Okay
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| Church, what up?
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| Ah, fuck
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| There’s a monster under your bed
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| And you’re not sure if you’ll wind up dead
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| You got demons and they’re right upstairs
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| So you’re suicidal, it’s quite unfair
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| So you’re drinking this liquor to numb all the pain
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| And it’s getting you sicker, it fucks with your brain
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| So you deal with the symptoms and hope it’ll change
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| You get back at the bottom and relapse again
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| The devil keeps waking you up in your sleep
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| No matter what you cannot run from the beast
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| Like, are you alive or just stuck in a dream?
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| I swear to God, this is a fucking disease
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| You’re better off staying inside, it’ll spread
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| The voices keep yelling inside of your head
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| You want 'em to stop, you been trying your best
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| Like, «Why the fuck are you crying again?»
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| Angels you had no longer exist
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| The monster inside makes it harder to live
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| You keep getting closer to calling it quits
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| You’re trying to hide all the scars on your wrist
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| It hurts you to think, all you want is to choose
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| So you slide in a slug in a shotgun to shoot
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| And at this point you think this is all you can do
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| Till you look in the mirror and the monster is you
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| I’m a monster, motherfucker I’m a monster
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| Come and get it if you want some
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| I got a AK-47 hanging out the driver window
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| And I’m shooting till the cops come, yeah, bitch I’m on one
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| I’m a monster, motherfucker I’m a monster
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| So come and get it if you want some
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| I got a AK-47 hanging out the driver window (Church)
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| And I’m shooting till the cops come, yeah, bitch I’m on one
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| My attitude has changed, I used to be the nice guy
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| But now I turned my stove to so high, and I grin wide
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| When I mind fight these wise guys, bitch get burnt like fast food fries
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| They got sneezed on and overcooked 'cause the cook’s still fried from last night
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| The game is sick it’s got bronchitis
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| I took my vitamin C, you couldn’t touch me, ain’t no Midas
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| I’m not the biggest in the game but that’s how I like it
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| 'Cause they don’t know if they don’t or do wanna fight me
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| This country bumpkin gonna fuck you up like you cheated on my sister
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| And I’m walking, toting a stick like Buford Pusser was living
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| Yeah, I’m rich now, got a couple cars from Italy
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| But I’m still Tennessee pimping in that dually 250 motherfucker
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| I’m loving the backlash, fuck 'em up like a trick in the bag, smashed
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| So fly, can survive a plane crash
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| And when I hit it from the underground, they begging me to rehash
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| Big check the cash for the bank account, I need a O positive blood fountain
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| the award shows got zombie bodies laying on the ground
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| I got a pimp cane and I sit round
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| What if I was made to annihilate this whole town?
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| Hit the strip of Music City with some baddies 'bout the business
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| Fuck the system, Nashville want a outlaw? |
| You 'bout to get it, bitches
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| I’m a monster, motherfucker I’m a monster
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| Come and get it if you want some
|
| I got a AK-47 hanging out the driver window
|
| And I’m shooting till the cops come, yeah, bitch I’m on one
|
| I’m a monster, motherfucker I’m a monster
|
| So come and get it if you want some
|
| I got a AK-47 hanging out the driver window
|
| And I’m shooting till the cops come, yeah, bitch I’m on one |