| I woke up to a tune on the radio, check it
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| An old church hymn behind a breakbeat record (yeahhh)
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| Sounded kinda funky so I pumped it, right
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| But rudely interrupted by a neighborhood street fight
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| When will you motherfuckers quit?
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| Every motherfuckin mornin it’s the same ol bullshit
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| I peeped to see the thrashin
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| Some nigga runnin with a butcher knife, screamin out «Assassin!»
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| He ran by a friend of mine, it bugged him
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| His eyes showed fear, that’s the reason why he stuck him
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| Anyway, that’s how I seen it
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| You rarely see a nigga kill another nigga
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| And he doesn’t mean it
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| So that’s the way I took it
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| Anyway the boy is dead, no matter how you look at it
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| And life goes on.
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| I was feelin kinda funny — aiyyo something’s wrong
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| I went to take a shower Duke
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| Bumped into the wall and I smooth went through
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| Now I’m thinkin I’m in trouble
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| I reached to touch my face, but I couldn’t feel my beard stubble
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| I screamed, «Oh Lord help!»
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| Looked into the mirror and I couldn’t see myself
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| I called up my mom’s house
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| And realized somethin was wrong, no doubt
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| She picked up, said «Hello» in a low tone
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| I said, «Hey ma!» |
| and she hung up the telephone
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| Sick and lookin weary
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| My cousin walks in, I said, «What's up?» |
| but he didn’t hear me
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| Started packin up my shit G
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| Looked at a picture of me, put it down and said, «Rest in peace»
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| Realizin what he said man
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| I can’t talk, I don’t exist, I’m a dead man
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| Yeah I guess I’m dead right?
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| I’m goin to the cemetary to peep out Action’s gravesite
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| And sure enough, there it is
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| My mom and girl talkin, holdin on to Brad’s kids
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| I look into the box G
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| Son of a bitch! |
| I don’t believe it, that’s me!
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| Momma kissed me on my head
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| Aww shit. |
| I’m dead (I'm dead) |