| With plan of revenge in mind, from the double cross, a deal of lies
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| Bloods boiling, we’ll set the trap, execution, my order is wrath.
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| Seal the North Side’s fate, a bouquet for the funeral.
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| Enlist the killers and Yale, greet him with a shake and death.
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| Die with your hand in a tight grip.
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| Kill, at point blank they shoot.
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| Slay, powder burns your face.
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| Fall, no angels to catch you.
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| Devastated with uncontrolled sobs, outcries in a funeral march.
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| Hunt for the killers begin, incite six years of war.
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| From the Hellions to the rise of power, arrogance will seal your doom.
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| The cabaret adds to your demise, with drink «Two Guns» is out.
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| Die with your hand in a tight grip.
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| Kill, at point blank they shoot.
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| Slay, powder burns your face.
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| Fall, no angels to catch you. |