| I’m an American psycho, that’s papa from B-K
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| Here with Laudy and Jenny, Platinum three-way
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| Made payola drop to the D-Js
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| So y’all can here me spit a thousand times a weekday
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| That’s not me talkin', that’s what the weed says
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| Fuck you up then check youtube for the replay
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| These little thugs take it too far and need to chill
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| Your reputation far exceeds your skill
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| The smell of death has a disgustin' aroma
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| But hip-hop ain’t dead it’s just in a coma
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| Bustin' my chroma
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| From my throne
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| Let us flow
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| Touch and own a
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| Champagne shims
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| Halfway house
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| Dwell in a place where hatred helps satan
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| Demons, angels divide soul brethrens
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| Skew your meat, call me the psycho American
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| Ayo even shape, call me different forms
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| So keep your eyes to the floor
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| 'Cause theirs snakes in the lore
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| Killin' new liars leave fakes in the morgue
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| The place you’re right now
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| That’s the place you’ll be mourned
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| Murder, hopeless, jokers with no motives
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| Choke her, more loud, now in slow motion
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| A flow glow up I’ve got an overdosage
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| Of potent power, man the world control it
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| You’re going overboard
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| Like Robert Maxwell with ya sell shit
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| Sometimes I’m selfish
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| But I get my own way because my ideas are well picked
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| Compare to where I send you, Hell’s bliss
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| What makes you ain’t got before you have to
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| I stay up all hours writin' in my pad too
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| Motivation, let me see the same
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| Reason why my hands touch the NPC
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| I treat my first line like a coke head treats his ice
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| When they can’t stand a liter
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| Come on bro, let me know
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| Cast off, this’ll be the one test to pass on
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| The beat catchers we that do
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| We stick close, we don’t mask on
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| So pass up on your girl tits, no thanks
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| She can be the centerpiece of the Leaf Dog shrine
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| All rappers they like customs
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| They’re waitin' for the shrine
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| But like D-Js, they can’t mix the floor like a sound
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| Call me B-F-G, but I rob the fucking giant
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| I got away with this like punchin' pigs in the fryer
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| So keep quiet and remain unnoticed
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| You can’t sit next to the doc
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| Son your name ain’t Otis
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| Remember this before ya under the radar
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| The games all feel like puttin' guns in quasar
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| Not long and you fall until you reach the bottom
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| Like doin' a bungee jump when the ropes forgotten
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| I bring like like the sun brights
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| Dumb guys can try actin' clever
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| But leave lookin' 'em wise
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| I tied their words together
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| So their trippin' over their lies
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| Hatin' in my face, but at home be feedin' on my shit like flies
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| Do M-C-ectomies, there’s a lot of treachery
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| Greats that never get to be with the stage or collect a fee
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| But not those that next to me
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| We’re raw like sopranos
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| Player choose the musical type and that’s some sore notes
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| I’ll never get popped up like the pill we’re takin'
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| There full of shit like statements
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| The governments are makin'
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| We get recognized by heads like decapitation
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| I’m the hundred percent proves my level on concentration
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| We stand firm like statues
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| We ain’t movin'
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| So many at like big daddies banks
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| Till we’re proven
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| Stay workin' and still be broke shit
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| So know the kids before
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| They have some chronic product, but we smoked it
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| I was born out 'em '86
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| With the top hat and paint and spliff
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| A single hit will make the day your shit
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| It’s that fruity
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| Bigger than a yak’s booty
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| The worlds not 'gon like cops when they’re off duty
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| Stop researching when the street nick and robs and use these
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| Right now start to count and jack your nan’s jewelry
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| How the tables have turned from more than tom foolery
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| We move a yute and they a super mutant freak
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| So you know the coo
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| That’s how speak when we movin' our beaks
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| O-W-Ls to the Q-unique
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| There’s no escaping like Houdini when you snooze in a sleep
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| But Mussolini won’t be fakin' a speach
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| Pussy dreamin' when I leap for the beat
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| Slow flow and now a juice has just flooded the streets
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| Not as deep, need the weller is to get you through the heart of the stream
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| I get the tag, I got my sight on the dream
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| They call me Z but don’t be sleepin' on me |