| CLICK! |
| Bang bang
|
| CLICK! |
| Bang bang to yo' motherfuckin brain ho
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| I told them haters «Hate on!», and Three 6 Mafia strong
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| Stronger than ever ever since they’ve been gone, I’ve been better
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| FUCK THEM FAKERS and them tag-along fakers
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| Smilin in my face but got my enemy on your MySpace
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| I can’t understand how these niggas live with theyself
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| Deal with theyself, what they need to do is kill theyself
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| BLAOW! |
| Suicide — that’s a good rationale
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| At your funeral for free, I play the piano
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| Rest in pieces you niggas sweet like Reese’s
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| Got mo' crosses than churches, heart smaller than a fetus
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| You need us, you’re nuttin, you’re zero, you’re zip, you’re nada
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| I’m 22 on the Rolls, you the hubcaps on the Impala
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| I’mma creep up on this fool, put this gun to his head
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| Tell him give me all your jewelry, all your dope, all your bread
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| All the coke that you brought in, the weed that you brought in
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| And if I can’t get answers, say hello, to my lil' friend
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| You fakin like you ball and brawl and shotcall
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| I’m that fool that break jaws and all the state laws
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| Stupid rappers get your check, buy rims and what’s next?
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| Need to get a place to live, a crib, cause you ain’t shit
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| With your mix-tapes, niggas hate, say they real, but they ain’t
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| Catch them somewhere face to face, then they run from place to place
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| Club hoppin', mall shoppin', gettin' hot, sales droppin
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| Now you wanna sober up and tell these niggas you got fucked |