| I’m the seventh sinner, I’m why you feel heat in December
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| I’m a lyric vendor, I’m your dead family members
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| Not a five percenter, just created my own foundation
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| I’m a deep conversation in between God and Satan
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| I’m your nerves when you shaking forewarning you of the pain
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| I’m the dark clouds in the distance that you see before the rain
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| I’m your father when he beat you as a child wilding out
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| I’m the preacher in the cathedral with his dick in a nun’s mouth
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| I’m the evil that’s inside you like blood swimming through your heart
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| I’m death, torture, and greed, disease and demonic thoughts
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| Ironic marks leaver, reminder of stigmata
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| Your palms, head, and feet will bleed to reach the father
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| I’m bad karma that always comes around like a baby momma
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| I’m what you facing, drama, I murder the Dalai Lama
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| I’m the lonely walker, the South Carolina stalker
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| I’m a demon beast snatching the innocence from your daughter, Lhus
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| Chorus: Who are you? |
| (Qualm) Where do you come from? |
| (Captol City streets)
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| Who are you? |
| You could be the one
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| I’m the inner conflict brought on by a change of conscience
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| A lack of confidence showing true colours that are pompous
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| Sometimes I’m monstrous, other times I’m often calmed quick
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| Don’t be alarmed kid cause you stepping up with your conference
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| I’m back to raw shit, watch the dirt swallow your coffin
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| Where my bomb sit is right under your fortress
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| Enemy quarters, in my hand along with a sword is
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| The way they taught us, street teachers that up-brought us
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| I stay lawless unless it’s physics and natural course
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| Inhibiting passing the corners at exact coordinates
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| In the path I trek in search for the math
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| I quest the earth on a quest for questions birth
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| Nothing less than a lesson learned
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| I’m the breath of curse, seven sins and seven worse
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| The sediment in the dirt ingesting the blood from murder
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| The sound of cracking bones, heartbeats from the facts are shown
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| The sound of blasting chrome to the back of your own dome, Qualm
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| Who are you? |
| (Knowledge) Where do you come from? |
| (Parts unknown)
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| Who are you? |
| You could be the one
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| I step in the spot blazing the wood
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| I walk through the hood up to no good
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| Seen the struggle through my mother’s eyes, did what I could
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| To survive the circumstances sometimes turned to a crook
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| And didn’t learn my craft and trade in no schoolbook
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| Burning the math the way we grew up
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| Slinging the lab, hustle a few bucks
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| Lick off, sting with the jab, right hook from the Ruger
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| Southern? |
| brew in the cooler
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| ? |
| get fogged out holding the hookah
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| Don’t manoeuvre, slap intruders and foolers
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| Yeah we fighting on the school bus
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| Talk about your momma, who what?
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| It was all slap boxing till somebody got their lip bust
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| We was kids then, now we grown up
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| Watch the time of our life flash before our eyes, Knowledge
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| Who are you? |
| Where do you come from?
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| Who are you? |
| You could be the one |