| He’s indeed a foe worthy of my metal
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| But he must be defeated
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| Fly, my enchanted mallet!
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| Seek out the enemy!
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| I put the H in heavy metal like the hammer of Thor
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| ILL Cana-Bill, way before Cannibal Corpse
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| These baby teen homos
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| I’m like a '83 Kronos
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| Pay Lionel Richie with bricks to lay promos
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| I hover vertically, Clockwork Burgundy
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| Seven thirty on your block like the murder spree instant
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| Secure the gas mask on the infant
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| Then analyze the galaxy with practical instinct
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| Stay sharper than zombie weapons
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| My wolves of war are savage
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| Bark at the moon like a Ferrari engine
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| Pack a burner blacker than Nat Turner
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| Jackson with the stacks like Hank Sherman
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| Track three thousand of black turbans
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| Lions roar comfortable to most the crime lords
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| Walking through the firestorm like the time before
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| Talk it like «I am the law» with a giant jaw
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| Chop off your motherfucking dome with Goliath’s sword
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| Ya bring that shit to Brooklyn?
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| The fuck outta here!
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| You wanna get the jewelry tooken?
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| The fuck outta here!
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| Ya wanna bring it to Philly?
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| The fuck outta here!
|
| And get yourself bodied for really?
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| The fuck outta here!
|
| See it’s black now, everything can go in a glance
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| I was raised right, I’m a let you know an advance
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| This the Billy bad knife work, rolling with gangs
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| And the peacoat laser Mac show you the dance
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| I’m talking everything, even shell cases is black
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| And the chopper lay him down like he’s taking a nap
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| Cut his body in sixteen like we playing the (???)
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| And if I ever gave you anything, I’m taking it back
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| You lazy and wack, just call me Glen Rice, I’m a shoot a man
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| I’m a peel his motherfucking lid like a tuna can
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| Chest poked out, talking shit like «Who the man?»
|
| Body work had his pussy breathing like a hookah fam
|
| It’s a lot of dead bodies everywhere that Vin rides
|
| Smiling on the outside, dying on the inside
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| Y’all are high, y’all just brought some blues in this bitch
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| But me and Billy ride, we just brought the tools in this bitch
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| Muerte! |