| You find ya self devoured by woodland creatures
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| Lightin' matches under my hat, ghost pirates
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| Frosty mug of rum
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| Old Los Angeles, heroin epidemics
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| I bust slugs, they love to figure skate through me
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| We had a merry war, turn M.C.'s to cannon boys
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| I carved Wu-Tang in the tie, you heard the stabbin' noise
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| Raw head breaks, snake eater of dungeon
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| A web of dead bodies in the sewer, underground London
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| Passion in the desert, my guns’ll love backwards
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| Just around the royal staircase, he runs laughter
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| Just around the royal staircase, he runs laughter
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| My forearm is made out of rifles that bust factor
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| And pop might murder the woman in the here after
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| I laugh cuz I’m a pirate, shot you twice in the abdomen
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| Then opened up the back of his head, like a cabinet
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| The blood sprained into my face
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| And ran down my revolver like the gaze of the next victim I slaughtered
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| Caught within a second, he wandered down the tunnel
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| Feel the ghost of a little boy rammed by, at the end
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| I squeeze a trigger violent, Warcloud the tyrant
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| All wet wit blood, on Godly assignment
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| Slap a whipper snapper, ya’s better mount up and slither
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| I smack you like a bear, watch a salmon out of a river
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| Roll him up in the carpet, carry him up the staircase
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| Ghost Pirates, Old Los Angeles, and we’re fabulous
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| Rhyme biohazardous, shot him twice in the abdomen
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| Then opened up the back of his head, like a cabinet
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| My liquids drip through ya storm drains, stained window sills
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| Black feathered birds gathered in the back of the cornfield
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| Stuck like a quicksand on rich land
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| While apostle tried to translate the novels in the palm of my hand
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| I break training wheels and kick stands
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| Produce |