| No one hears my screams
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| I told you me deepest fears
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| but I’m still havein bad dreams
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| it seems, I’m still trapped inside a paradox
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| weather you care or not
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| my inferred plays connect the dots
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| The evil nigga no nigga could eva figure the style
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| comist the body count and the bodies pile
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| a hundred miles
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| and me styles never get worn
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| the wicket shit will never die
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| no need to mourn
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| The suckas stay off my dick I’m never friendly
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| to go to church fuck Jesus cause it just aint in me in me Lord have mercy, damn its the devils day
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| can i say, wicket niggas come out and play, and hey
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| I do it for the suicidalness
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| and aint no otha nigga suicidal like this, so scream
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| (Esham)
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| Screamin at the top of my lungs
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| redrum, redrum, murder 1 uh, nigga with the gun uh, acti-tion
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| rude boy never hesitate to bust
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| and fuck any motha fucka who aint down with us The wicket nigga the nigga with wicket commin with the wicket ness
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| and niggas still on my dick for this
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| A straight suicidal, homicidal, brotha
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| neva like anotha, take a pillow and smuggle yo motha
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| Run for cover, hide for shelter
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| nigga i felt cha, and oh yeah helta skelta, the fuck the funk
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| I’m never down
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| me and my nigs don’t fuck around, I’m stickily underground
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| I take yo momma ya daddy and everything you love
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| and tell yo ass their aint no heaven up above and just scream
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| (Esham)
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| My shits so inconspicuous
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| its so ridiculous
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| niggas lick my style like a dick
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| But I’m a nut up, cut up, what up, cut they dick off
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| and sew they butt up, cause they some pussies
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| Bitch get back off my ball sack
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| cut it loose, my shits triple fact like a goose
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| and, I know the one to make the shit that make you vomit
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| I live mo life then on tupacs stomach
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| Check the maggot brain theory
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| niggas cant get near me to hear me, I’m bustin off like a sawed off
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| Shotgun, love, I got none
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| niggas betta run when I cock one, the hot one
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| I still swallow bullets spittin em in yo face
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| cause I love the way gun powder taste and just scream |