| Maybe it’s just best to leave my by my lonely, homie
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| Maybe we ain’t friends, if you want my trust show me
|
| People actin' kinda funny like a full moon
|
| Got me feelin' dark gloom, and igniting my psycho just like some gas fumes
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| Maybe I should set an example, extract some blood samples
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| Run this razor blade across his throat and adam’s apple,
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| Dismantle his body into pieces, sink him in this reservoir
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| What the fuck you starin' at, what the fuck you take me for?
|
| Take this as an act of war,
|
| Dressed in black and strap my lord
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| Act like demons from the past I’m tappin' at your chamber door
|
| Quote the raven «nevermore», Edger Allen, I implore
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| Hope you prayed before you were placed underneath this cellar boards
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| I’m so unlike my berkowitz, your existence superfluous,
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| My persistence to hurt you and remove you from this earth
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| And it’s vital that I complete the cycle,
|
| Proceed to murder your idols on pins and needles, leave you bleedin' with
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| knives and rifles.
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| I’ve been in this game so long,
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| I’m numb to the pain, hold on
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| I function this way, mind gone,
|
| You takin' my place? |
| (Dead wrong)
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| I’m infamous, incision you to increments,
|
| With these instruments of vigilance, have you wishin' for innocence
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| Beat you into submission, bitch
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| Show you the mind of villain instead of killin' it, lyrically like you ain’t
|
| feelin' this
|
| Always perceiving, seemin' to be the seed of a demon
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| Cause you can’t seem to beat 'em or cease 'em from breathin'.
|
| I’m sick of this, ignorance, illegitimate, hatin' shit
|
| Bitches, stay up out my mix, jockin' on my style, so sick
|
| You talk about my style so much you might as well be my publicist,
|
| Twenty-ten, back again, resurrect like I’m from Nazareth
|
| Huh, people actin' real funny, you know what I’m sayin'?
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| There must be a full moon in this mother fucker of something. |