| Barrel full of gasoline, and still, they try matchin' me
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| Plague with the wicked ways, it’s back to the rapturing
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| Actually capturing souls in a black canteen
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| Open the cap, and become blackened
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| Back to the back of the 'Lac, flickin' cigarette ash
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| Got a chain made of crack, I smoke diamonds
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| And laugh at y’all strapped with the gat
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| Like I’m actually scared to die
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| Pull the fucking trigger, blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah!
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| Back to the back, eyes rollin' back
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| Spent all my racks, spent it on crack
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| Spent it on smack, look where I’m at
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| Ain’t going back, ain’t going back
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| Got a heart so cold, remember sellin' dope, remember sellin' coke
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| DEA pulled me over, plain cars, plain clothes
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| I didn’t bend an inch, I’m strictly sticking to the code
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| Few years ago was masked up, robbin' stores
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| Set 'em up on Craigslist, then robbed 'em at the door
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| I’m at the bottom tryna eat, I got no hope, fuck
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| Big Ben’s death had my head fucked up
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| I’m poppin' Roxys with the Benzos, chest fucked up
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| (I guess my luck’s up…) |