| It's lonely at the top
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| All of my enemies have been defeated
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| The crown has been sitting on my head for too long
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| It's starting to give me these legions
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| Don't follow the crowd, the crowd is misleading
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| Stay solo, surrounded by all of my demons
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| Licking my wounds as they deepen
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| Constantly feeding them all of my secrets
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| 007, I got the golden gun, I got the golden
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| I'm busting, open up the door
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| I'm at my breaking point, I cannot take this shit no more
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| I'm ready to fucking explode
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| Open up, knock-knock, here comes the Glock cocked
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| Nine milli, pop-pop-pop, oh, no
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| Making a mess, my aim ain't the best
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| I guess I should clean this all up and go home
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| Percocet, Roxycodone, with some Xanax that I had crushed up in some dust, huh
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| Elevated to another dimension so I got a limp in my strut
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| I do not care to be here or be there
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| In the mean time, it seems that I'm stuck, huh
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| Swerving and crashing, that dying little bastard
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| Yung Christ, you address me as such, what?
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| Crazy little demon, they wave when they see me
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| Face tatted from ear to ear, yeah
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| Northside boy with a Glock sized toy
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| If I cock it there's going to be tears here
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| Manic depressive, when life is in session, I hide in a room that's dark as me
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| Dollar sign, B, and it's still F-T-P, fucking G-R-E-Y 'til I R-I-P |