| Catch me if you can, I’m the gingerbread man
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| Beat murder cases while the jury still at grand
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| Dispose of the mold, yes I always keep a plan
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| In case I gotta chop up, cookie cutters in my hand
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| Burn, baby burn, keep a furnace on my land
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| I know hell is hot, I walk with a fan
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| That’s the way the cookie crumbles so try to understand
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| I’m laughing while you stumble cause you rumble like a girl
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| If people were just humble, it would be a better world
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| Bring it, I got guns, fuck what you care
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| Talking like you pumping, nigga, I’m on to your scheme
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| Nigga, I know you glazed and your heart is Krispy Kreme
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| Cash rules everything around me
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| Assholes like you astound me
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| Brain infected, pretending you’re a beast
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| When God created you, he added too much yeast
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| Whether internet gangster of cellphone thug
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| I will take your life and that’s on everything I love
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| I take death serious, I don’t love much
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| You must be delirious if you think you can’t be touched
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| JFK in Texas caught one in the boulder
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| Even the Pope took one in the shoulder
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| So what you think so special about you (sucker)
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| I’m short of a loaf, half-baked as a crew
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| Divide and conquer, in half brake you
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| I’ll ride out to die nigga, I’ll take you
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| I’m quick to catch a body now in my old age
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| I’ve seen the mistakes that Carlito made
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| A young nigga’ll kill you if you sleep and move slow
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| So wide 'em out, baby, block will got to go
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| Fiends nodded cause I got a mean flow
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| Show you what I’m made of, I’m bout the dough
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| I’m bout the dough, nigga
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| (I get money, money I got)
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| (And police couldn’t touch me because I was payin 'em)
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| (But not with no money — Yo, I was frayin 'em)
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| (And that’s the life, that I live)
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| (Got to get my motherfucking money right)
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| (So yeah, I’ll stick a nigga most definite)
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| (Blast the black metal at you)
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| (Now it’s like motherfucking Vietnam)
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| Gingy, money stacker, heat packer
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| Bleach flour, try to stay away from crackers
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| Saltine even, if they graham
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| Animals around courts of mayhem
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| Some animals perpetuate 'em like they Ritz
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| Man, fuck the crackers, they don’t mean shit
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| Half-bakes doing hits
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| Half-bakes doing hits
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| Pillsbury dope boy, he will meet defeat
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| I murdered Cookie Monster in the middle of the street
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| Rob Keebler Elves, we ran up in their tree
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| We had to kill them all, witnesses you never leave
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| Swimming in the cookie dough, we got the motherload
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| Putwork on the block, gingerbread, it;s time to flow
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| Cookie Jarvis had the block, we took him out of there
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| Lost all of his magic, he didn’t want to share
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| He had the Cookie Crook shook, Jarvis was a faker
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| So we returned him to his baker (gunshots)
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| That’s right, his baker
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| All mighty baker
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| (I get money, money I got)
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| (And police couldn’t touch me because I was payin 'em)
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| (But not with no money — Yo, I was frayin 'em)
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| (And that’s the life, that I live)
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| (Got to get my motherfucking money right)
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| (So yeah, I’ll stick a nigga most definite)
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| (Blast the black metal at you)
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| (Now it’s like motherfucking Vietnam) |