| «He murdered sometimes months apart, years apart
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| He used different methods
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| He would go so far as to plan in his crime the actual deceit of law enforcement
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| He would murder someone
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| Cut their body, wrap them in layer after layer of plastic bags and material
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| Then deposit the body many, many miles from the murder scene.»
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| I’m a lyrical hitman
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| I’m a lyrical hitman
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| This the homicide, sodomy of course
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| Mobb Deep, like I got Havoc and Prodigy support
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| Ima' be dope until they find me as a corpse
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| You can roll your weed up in my Toxicology Report
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| You can call me Kuklinsky, Iceman for short
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| And I got dead rapper’s pens in my Icebox
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| After they act hard I lyrically kill 'em then I bury their notebooks in my
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| backyard
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| Check it out, the lead gonna hit 'em
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| I’m so far from positive
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| Nigga I’m the opposite of Rev Run on Twitter
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| I’m a dead wrong, headstrong spitter
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| Compared to me you a faggot gettin' fed bone nigga
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| I’m pitch black!
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| You a red bone nigga, I’m a trip
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| You’re headphone on, I’m sick
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| You a snitch, that like to sing the Fed’s songs, nigga?
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| Oops, I forgot my meds, you the absent minded
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| When they find ya' body it’s gonna be without ya' head
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| «A mind made for murder»
|
| «Expected the man to uh die, but…»
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| «It really surprised me it would’ve took his head off»
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| «That's something I didn’t expect»
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| «Richard Kuklinski»
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| This city is murder for hire
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| Got word to my supplier
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| Snuck up on 'em
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| Strangled 'em, he never heard the wire
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| These niggas claim they cold, I swear my words are fire
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| Me and you can get it on, I bet that you retire
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| I’m from the city of Gators, YDI
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| Cold men, he own guns, this is not A Country for Old Men
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| Boat Guns, sweat socks, don’t run, just stop
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| Put the needle in his big ego, watch his head pop
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| You little niggas done fizzled out
|
| Niggas claim they murderers
|
| Ima' show them what this about
|
| I am doing work, you can’t travel here, pick a different route
|
| Gimme twenty beats and I pick 'em off as you pick 'em out
|
| My shit is the screen, I’m clicking this heat
|
| I hit up your peeps, whip up ya' beef
|
| Duck, spray 'em
|
| I’m a stuntman by the way I lift ya' Jeep
|
| They should throw under the jail for how I’m killin' this beat
|
| «A mind made for murder»
|
| «Expected the man to uh die, but…»
|
| «It really surprised me it would’ve took his head off»
|
| «That's something I didn’t expect»
|
| «Richard Kuklinski»
|
| «Is one of the most dangerous criminals we have ever come across in the state
|
| He murdered by guns, he murdered by strangulation, he murdered by putting
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| poison on victims food
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| He did all of this, the same time while still exhibiting a normal placid family
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| existence.» |