| I was told, because I didn’t witness the jump off
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| I was sick even 'fore I got my first cough
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| I was cold and black and made for killin'
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| With no conscience or feelings
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| Just like the million other burners that’s just like me
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| Assembly line made killers for the murder and bleedin'
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| Got my first taste loaded when they tried to test me
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| Exploded on the first one, caught him in his chest
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| That’s what a gat’s made of
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| Knowin' I’m the hate that hate made, and regulate anyone
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| Equalize, neutralize any situation
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| Any cat runnin' up, any confrontation
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| I was put into a room with the rest of us
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| With the rest of us, ready to bust
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| Many rounds, any town, any city or state
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| Never rest, any contest, sealin' your fate
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| No mistake, I only come out when talkin’s done
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| After squawkin' some, and never run
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| Never foolin' and ya just might lose, black steel in the hour
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| Give the power to the average dude shootin'
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| Clik clak boom, that’s the rule
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| Clear the room, when I move 'em, cause confusion
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| Known for retribution, ain’t no mercy, it’s murder
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| I burn 'em and hurt 'em no further words necessary
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| We bring the, pain to make ya bend
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| No thing to, make ya, understand
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| Just blast it, pass it, on again
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| Keep it movin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
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| Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them
|
| We might go, psycho, soldier then
|
| Just line the, sight up, hold the grip
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| Keep it shootin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
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| Guess I passed the first test ‘cause they shipped me out
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| Extra clips and a grip quick to whip me out
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| Turn nerds and these teenagers into killers
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| Overseas in Afghanistan, every village
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| I would go from being cold to warm, to hot quick
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| If anybody wanted some, it’s on
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| Once dumped on a whole neighborhood for fun
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| Even shoot you in your back it I caught your ass runnin'
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| Little kids and they mamas too
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| Might pick ya little man off the roof, who’s who
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| Don’t matter cause they all look the same to me
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| The blood splatter on the concrete stains and claims the streets
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| No peace from this piece
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| I squeeze em and beat 'em, feed 'em slugs when the lugs get dumped
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| It’s no reasoning, it’s no use pleading, it’s open season
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| We defeat 'em when this heater get heated I bleed 'em and leave 'em
|
| We bring the, pain to make ya bend
|
| No thing to, make ya, understand
|
| Just blast it, pass it, on again
|
| Keep it movin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
|
| Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them
|
| We might go, psycho, soldier then
|
| Just line the, sight up, hold the grip
|
| Keep it shootin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
|
| Made it back in one piece fasho
|
| But can’t say the same for the homeboy that brought me home
|
| He was off on that PTSD
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| The PTSD was keepin' him tweakin' and testy
|
| 'Fore long for we was hittin' the streets
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| Bloodshed wasn’t nothin' to me, we street sweepin' with no relief
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| Full metal jacket as we pump and dump 'em and stack 'em
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| Let’s get it crackin'
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| Be the first to burst, now who’s the last to last, I blast them
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| To ashes, and fill they little caskets fast
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| That’s what I do, that’s my job, I was made for the beef
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| Killin' off all these young black men and causing grief
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| Oakland, Frisco, Detroit, LA, Chicago
|
| That’s where I go
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| From city to city, backyard to yard, even Newtown Connecticut
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| But now ya wanna ban my clips, hypocrites
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| Never gave a damn about a black teen dyin'
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| Quit lyin'
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| Take me down to your neighborhood buy back
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| They so scared, they don’t want to see me try that
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| But it’s so many more like me
|
| We multiply, never die, we exist to feed
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| We exist in America from corporate greed
|
| In the midst of the fake fear, lyin' and evil
|
| Even got the police turnin' on each other
|
| Blap a pig with that «get back,» run for cover
|
| Now it’s all bad, funny how it’s all bad
|
| When the tables turn, got 'em shakin' till they fall back
|
| And ya better hope that we don’t come for ya
|
| NRA, LaPierre, get 'em done for ya
|
| Never thought we would come back and gun for ya
|
| Pull the hammer smooth back and then dump for ya
|
| «Most of the shootings took place in poor neighborhoods, far from downtown and
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| tourist attractions; |
| One reason much of the city seems to be shrugging its
|
| shoulders.»
|
| We bring the, pain to make ya bend
|
| No thing to, make ya, understand
|
| Just blast it, pass it, on again
|
| Keep it movin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
|
| Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them
|
| We might go, psycho, soldier then
|
| Just line the, sight up, hold the grip
|
| Keep it shootin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
|
| We bring the, pain to make ya bend
|
| No thing to, make ya, understand
|
| Just blast it, pass it, on again
|
| Keep it movin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass
|
| Don’t fight, no, we blow, holes in them
|
| We might go, psycho, soldier then
|
| Just line the, sight up, hold the grip
|
| Keep it shootin' when we
|
| Buck, Buck, Pass |