| Dig it, this world is filled with homicides and rape
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| All the crimes of hate just ain’t the size and shape
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| You can walk don’t the block and get slumped or knocked
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| It don’t stop y’all and it just don’t stop
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| I leave the microphone intrigued with my practice
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| This rebel stick your system like a cactus a boys sadness
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| Who knows what is concealed under the mattress
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| Ruegurs, losses and grindals when my minds in blackness
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| Then I act this way the beast unleashed
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| Rabbis, monks and priests always pray for peace
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| But it’s deceased now only lives the true realance
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| Open up the mental deaths you rented through my palace
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| My thoughts contain the plus sign plus the malice
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| Not equating to your Wonderland so fuck Alice
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| My style is hostile on the external
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| But got plenty of love and warmth that’s internal
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| The sin coronal
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| Surfaces from whispers from the lower
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| My noun like arks and 950 years of Noah
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| You’re arch rival
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| You burn a cross I burn the bible
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| Because I’m liable, to do this
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| When my actions true this
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| But I’d rather choose to use my diction
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| Resurrect that blond blue eyed and put him through another crucifixion
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| Stay up in your jurisdiction (say what?)
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| My depiction is the drama
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| Though these eyes I’ve seen the trauma
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| Homicides in the source that was phenomenal
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| When I find out who banged Muwan in his abdominal
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| Met with Jesus to learn to Burns not commical
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| At times this thing ain’t logical
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| I gots to walk around with my brain on cock
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| Cause it can’t (can't) won’t (won't) don’t (don't) stop
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| My mentals in flame your brains will drain
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| When I let the ink drip and then pass out a pink slip
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| I think quick so check my methodology
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| My stylagy is more ranty than anthropology
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| Between your raw legs like it’s gynecology
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| You and your sorry ass style needs an apology
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| Cause an earthquake and make you shake you need neurology
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| These niggas kill me actin' like stars fuck they astrology
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| Imagin' with my badge I snatch the pagent
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| Turn your city to a smashing and grab it
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| Now it’s time to burn the maggots my message stronger than Elisha
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| That backslap the ass like your father
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| Why bother?
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| Would any care for, lyrics I sling from my mic with cease your laughter
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| Mind of a bachelor to a master
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| What I thought that leaves you flabbergasted
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| Ask you what’s the matter bastard?
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| These types of rhythms man you’d rather blast it
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| You hear the beats in jeeps over the weekend
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| Silence is golden and niggas get killed just for speakin'
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| The only deacon is death when ya left wounded
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| Layin' on the ground and meet your doom quick
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| I done been through the deserts of hell with Satin sittin' waitin'
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| Contemplatin' and trying to get me for the takin'
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| That’s why I walk around with my brain on cock
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| Cause it can’t (can't) won’t (won't) don’t (don't) stop
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| At times I feel as if could pull a kamikaze
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| Illuminatti probably in the civic center lobby
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| They seeds in the world student body probably
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| Creatin' missles they got my child holdin' pistols
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| Knowledge and understand will make a man murder
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| Stand further fuck all the swine plus they hamburger
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| No hallucination the lieutenant plus Illitant arean murder that’s mental
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| Credentials is I am a hell residental with fire for the presidental
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| Officially it’s havoc in the temple
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| I terrorize the heavens bring on the renaissance
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| With the seventh the civili the reverence reprimand
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| The deacon keepin' 'em from speachin'
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| Tell 'em seeks the false preacher and I step like a shadow on your way to
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| hot concrete
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| And ovserve my peoples in the essence every weekend
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| We wonder what the fuck is school teachin'
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| Intoxicating soldiers at chaotic times reachin'
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| The dynasty is slim
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| But they only resemble what’s when we attack
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| That split your back then we extort your speciamen
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| I put this in your system like lesser than
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| Then manuver mentally for men internal medicine
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| I hold the fort down with Malik symoblic
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| To the mind of word that’s Islamic
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| The killer force as I deposit dealin' with logic
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| I keep my brain on cock it don’t stop
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| Bad lieutenant, M-Ill-it-ant feel the fifth guerilla chant. |
| Come through.?
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| Check it out. |