| Evertime I see you slippin'
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| I go and reach for my mac 10
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| Victims of my devils playground
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| (Koopsta Knicca)
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| Damn I’m about to bust a cap up in these tricks
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| Chris
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| I’m thinkin’deadly and I’m scopin’with that infarred
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| Kickin’it with the hardest click
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| Leavin’bodies rottin’up in them ditches
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| Man what’s done if my tongue hits like a ton of brizicks
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| Koops not concerned
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| I let you burn and burn and burn
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| Everything in the prophecy has been demonically read
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| So I learned
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| Deep in the morgue
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| Lie corps in the quateras
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| They wanna face in a line of order
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| Can you place this shit
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| When you crawled up on the red man
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| You bounce set up in this bitch
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| Sittin’man and thinkin'
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| Though my dreams I hear little kids screamin
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| Poor preachers I waited for hangin'
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| Which got me like bored in the psycho ward like daily
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| The 6−6-6 mystery man
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| Is takin’me straight to insanity
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| Could it be a dimension of witches that bring out voices
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| That issue more tragedies
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| The seas of cries
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| Will soon be turning
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| Your fuckin’life over
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| Left the priest and island bleeding of four leaf clover
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| Then I crinkle enough of these slugs
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| ?? |
| I’d rather be mugged to drink up a pint of his blood |