| God kills the best of us
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| And leaves the rest to bury them
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| This heart of darkness is charcoal art
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| Carcas carving marble for seraphims
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| My chest is pounding like an 808
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| I get so cloudy I could fade to grey
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| Aleister Crowley with the razor blades
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| Spray flames at fakes until they fade away, aye
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| Any minute ima immolate ‘em
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| My inner state stays in decay
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| Their shit is played out, my skin is splayed
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| 24 ribs sit displayed
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| In a trophy case now
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| Scripted hit-lists in lowercase
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| With a Pokerface out
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| I’ll show em the way down
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| I got money so I don’t do much
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| You niggas be talking' too much
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| I go toe-to-toe with myself in a rut
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| I’m a nut give a fuck mama told me what’s up
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| These niggas don’t love us they out for the stunt
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| If there’s funk tell them niggas to meet me out front
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| For some fame there’s a whole lot of dick they’ll suck
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| We do nothing but plot and do us
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| Me and some ghosts in a truck
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| We lurking for sinners who don’t know the word of the one
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| I’m a son of a gun that’ll bust if I’m touched
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| We get ugly and handle our stuff
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| Type of fight is you down to put up?
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| If there’s beef call the cops if you ain’t gone pull up
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| When it’s all about drama be willing to jump
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| If there’s problems then solve them be willing to dump |