| I bought a gun
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| Yea I hide it in my closet
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| Next to the skeletons quiet when I cock it
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| I bought a gun, Sex pistol she was fun
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| We shot in black & white every day like ancient nuns
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| Or foreign films or Jordan 1s
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| Two shots, one for me & one for her
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| We’re dead floating off the bombest lungs
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| Designer bodybags, my tongue chaotic
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| Like Jason’s tech on the dresser
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| They be show 9s underneath the guidance of professor
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| Unschooled, hard knocks love a tall Glock
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| The big hand or a barrell
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| When you watch your head on our clock
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| Cause my block, scars to the face so I rapped a lot
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| Staying out the way is survival in a nutshell
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| Cross a brother’s path and he make glove compartment nut shells
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| Nutty motherfuckers move your crust and ask for more bread
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| Look into the floor of a hustler and it’s code red
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| George pushed the button on these terroristic hacks
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| Of a soldier that would friendly fire just to gain a rack
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| It is crazy where we at
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| I’m off that sleep deprivation
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| Minds a mine field that just keeps detonating
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| So I keep dead & waiting
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| There’s a gun inside my closet now
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| Make not a sound, unfired not a round
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| Just cause you don’t believe doesn’t mean it’s not around
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| In this haunted house I listen close
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| Ear against the prison walls, iridescent visuals
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| I hear morose quotes in morse codes & moreso
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| There’s morsels of more souls around me
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| Yea they’re forceful & hounding
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| Where im from its storm-soaked & cloudy
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| It’s suicide capital, born-broken county
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| So count on me to count you out
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| I’m counterculture roundabout
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| Witty with the witticisms still I’m iffy if without a crowd
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| Without a doubt… Doubt, Sinks into the shoulder blades
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| Captive of the scapulas, I think that I can hold the weight
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| I cultivated weaponry I’m on the run
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| And growing paranoid so I bought a gun |