| I be rule things, cuz my moves swing on paperbel
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| I’m Dr. Jeckyl and Dr. Jeckyl
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| And I don’t hide from the popo
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| They tried to spot a nigga like freckles
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| Psychiatrists be sneaking phone calls for them to catch us
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| I used to walk the streets like a zombie
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| With a live and vibrant, hungry called me ganja
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| Couldn’t calm me
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| I’m known for taking vodka to AA meetings
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| Then I dipped to give a nigga a sip while we was peeing
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| And Swift ain’t listening to you speak
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| Till your people at meetings, giving em speeches
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| On how they used to drink
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| I been at the brink of insanity
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| I’m still living at 357 Amityville
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| Come and visit me
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| My father handed me gats, we chilling in the backyard
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| Having target practice and we aiming at the bats
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| Living a Gothic childhood, my entire were gray and black
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| I left at 17 and never come back
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| I stay grouted in the motherfucker
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| The streets turned me into a monster
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| And when you see my gat, you’re cardiac
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| (I'm just crazy)
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| You niggas never make your money back
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| And if you selling sex you running at
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| I considered the murder Armagnac
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| (I'm just crazy)
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| Your life is fiction and this is fact
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| And I ain’t caring if the prison’s packed
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| (I'm so crazy)
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| A lot of niggas hate me
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| And daily I’m awakening to the smell of narcotics
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| While niggas is shaking
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| And they waiting for they fixes
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| I’m cleaning my biscuits
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| I done caught a contact in crack
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| But still resisted it
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| It really was funny how niggas thought I was a dummy
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| And I couldn’t handle it, taking advantage of my money
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| Was hating, conformation, I’m taking medication
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| And they thought I wasn’t paying attention
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| To conversation
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| And yeah I heard them saying I was crazy
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| Outta my mind, shady, and my gauge ain’t never away from me
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| They see that the demons come out in the day as well as night
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| It’s nothing stand in the way of the psychopathic juggernaut
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| Whether the streets or in the house
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| You can get shot faster than syringes
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| I’m not giving prescriptions
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| Stop calling me father, I’m psycho ward’s finest
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| You ain’t a threat, I’ma promise I’m out my mind!
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| It’s the indoctring of a madman
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| Son of Sam, put his hands
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| On any pedestrian
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| Touched again, I’ll be damned
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| Piling your dead body up in your garbage can
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| And if it is, then never doubt that I dropped it there
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| You can smell it in the atmosphere when death is near
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| Medicin cabinets feel with shit that doctors fear
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| They say I’m talented man, but felon immigrants
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| In my hand they found a screw big as a can and I am touched
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| It’s like being in Pakistan with laced blunts
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| A deranged fuck, living life like a great nut
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| As far as my slut, every day she’s covered with duct tape
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| I lay her in my basement and I bust up
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| And guess what? |
| They scared of my DNA
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| They locked me for reproduction, but I freeze my cum anyway
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| All I need is some bottles of Bombay
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| Some rags and some matches
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| Just to slam you wherever you stay! |