| Zombie: Helllp
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| Person 1: Don’t be afraid
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| Person 2: I’ll bust it in the damn head. |
| Man, you sure that thing’s tied good?
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| P1: You can hear me?
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| Zombie: Yesss
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| P1: Why do you eat people
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| Zombie: Not people, brainsss
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| P1: Brains only?
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| Zombie: Yesss
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| P1: Why?
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| Zombie: The paaaiiinnn
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| P1: What about the pain?
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| Zombie: The paaaiinnn of being deaddd
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| P1: Brains. |
| Hurts, to be dead?
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| Zombie: I can feel myself rotttttiiiiing
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| P1: Eating brains. |
| How does that make you feel?
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| Zombie: It makes the pain go awaaaayyyy
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| Yes, motherfuckers
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| Yet you have entered the psycho ward
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| Where the X-Raided lays his head, niggas
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| So let that nigga tell his story… beotch
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| I be stalkin' like Jason
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| Nigga I ain’t sayin' shit
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| Mask on wit' a machete in my right mit
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| Ain’t gon' be no «cha cha cha. |
| cha cha cha»
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| Cause all you gon' be hearin' is «ratta-tat» and «pop pop»
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| And it ain’t gotta be no friday the thirteenth
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| I don’t give a fuck if it’s sunday the fifteenth
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| Any day is good for me to go and kill a ho
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| So fuck the money, mo murder mo murder mo |
| And it’s a nightmare on yo' mama’s street
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| But freddy’s bitch-ass is dead, so now you got to deal wit' me
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| And ain’t no need to make no part two, three or fo'
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| Cause I’m gon' kill 'em all in that first episode
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| Slit 'em open with the straight razor
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| Killin' 'em quicker than that mother fucker pinhead on hellraiser
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| I’m hellbound so the X-Raided loc ain’t no joke
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| When I creep I use that nine-millimeter to split yo' face wide open
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| Cause nigga you know I got no brain
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| Mama said when I was young I didn’t play I liked to gangbang
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| My psychiatrist told me I was totally insane
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| I’m packin' a millimeter nine-a nina it’s same daisy
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| I got that loco-active siccness
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| Makin' a nigga lunatic
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| I fit you filthy murderous when I’m blastin' on them bitches
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| Killin' 'em up, fillin' 'em up with lead
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| I’m full of that liquor I’m stickin' my trigga unloadin' da shit sicc
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| So psychoactive nigga bangin' the deuce-fo' s t r to the double e t
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| Don’t tell my nina you seem to be incubate
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| And I ain’t trippin' on all that payback shit you ripped in jail |
| By then i’ll have that nine to make that brain thang hang out, nigga
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| You fuckin' with the g’sta
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| When you runnin' up on the x you better bring your favorite preacher witchya
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| Cause you gon' need him to be a witness when I smoke ya
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| Look you in yo' eyes and say «you shoulda been a loc’sta»
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| ((Da Misses))
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| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on
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| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on
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| Creepin' through the dark.
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| ((.murderin' motherfuckers))
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| Aimin' for the heart.
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| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers))
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| Pick up yo' god damn remote turn on your TV
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| Ya hit the channel to one eighty-seven faculty
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| Look in the light you’ll see that sista, «hey LSG»
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| Oh with the stogie-ogie-ogie now follow me
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| And to your death, yeah bitch you shouldn’tna fucked with a g
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| Cause I got that S A C on my motherfuckin' family, uzi
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| Shit it gets crazier, disect your fuckin' heart
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| And bury your ass in the motherfuckin' park
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| Pop chop chop goes your head
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| Cause it’s the bloody murdy with the ammo gat that ya felt |
| My dear, catch the needle in your eye
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| Time to get wicked oh yeah time to die
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| Cause the voices be sayin'
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| «misses start sprayin'
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| On these punk-ass niggas talkin' shit and nuts ain’t even hangin'»
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| So slippedy slip slip slip slip slide
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| Got the fuckin' Glock and on your soul I’m 'a ride
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| Because it’s the motherfuckin' bone
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| Ready to get gone
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| And it’s da motherfuckin' miss with the mask on
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| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on
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| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on
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| Biatch get your grip cause I’m on that mission
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| I slit first like O.J. |
| so don’t let me start rippin'
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| Shift up like a wind storm, now hollow ones make your body warm
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| But niggas are wanted for the life I have no pitty cause I love harm
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| So i. |
| want to bust caps like a g
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| Hey g pass me the hk afta that nine-millie so them fools come remember me
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| «you crazy nigga,» not crazy, I’m psycho
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| Once I’m bustin' shots at them niggas moonwalk just like michael
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| I flip, 'how you flip?'
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| I’m flippin' it back and forth |
| I’m havin' one of them bitches movin' they mouth and playin' poor sport
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| Oh shit mista nigga where’s yo vest I’m 'bouts to pop ya
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| How many times do I have to tell you you cannot like fuck with the chopsta
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| I rip shit the fuck up, that’s the perfect sign to
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| Slit your throat, and bury your ass where no one can find you
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| With my mask on, my paths leave no evidence
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| Black gloves black scarf crept I creep nights so handle shits
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| You punk-ass bustas
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| I heard you couldn’t trust us
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| Your set be should be on move sorry cause your whole block is bustas
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| Vamp like that, black is cool I see no sunshine
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| Knocka full of AKs and a backpack full of tech nines
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| Biotch!
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| ((Da Misses))
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| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on
|
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on
|
| Creepin' through the dark.
|
| ((.murderin' motherfuckers))
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| Aimin' for the heart.
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| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers))
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| Whan ya see my nina, ya shoulda ducked
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| Just knowin' a nigga like Lunasicc don’t be givin' a fuck
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| So uh, I lit it up now I’m gettin' up out of that bitch |
| Tear my bucket down march with fo' fo’s burned up on the fuckin' ground
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| I left him dead his bloody head left on the concrete
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| There he lay when the AK spray brains lookin like hamburger meat
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| I’m gettin' ghost like casper
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| But I’m not that friendly nigga I’m that Lunasicc bastard
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| I’m hazardous to my own health
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| Just any minute I just might grab that nine millimeter and bust my own self
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| So we can take it to the next level
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| I go to hell and get at the grim reeper yellin' «fuck the devil!»
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| So we can take it to the crossroads, motherfucker
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| Even then my nine steadily loaded killin' all you bustas
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| Fill it up with hollow tips then pop nigga drop me one
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| Fillin' all you devils up with them hot ones
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| Kickin' down doors with x, shoot my gat in fuck the discussion
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| All I want is the cash, if there ain’t none I’mma blast
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| Killin' ya doctor, ya ambulance driva, and ya nurse
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| You’re walkin' to your funeral cause x’loc blew up your hurse
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| You’z a victim of the lunasicc, hell of quick to blast
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| Ash to ash dust to dust right up on yo' motherfuckin' ass |
| With the quicka, the reepa the nigga
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| Takin' the gat with a blast straight to the dome
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| Lunasicc for the nine-five bitch creepin' with my mask on
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| ((da misses))
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| Creepin' through the dark with that motherfuckin' mask on
|
| Packin' that nine-millimeter niggas be ready to get they blast on
|
| Creepin' through the dark.
|
| ((.murderin' motherfuckers))
|
| Aimin' for the heart.
|
| ((.slaughterin' motherfuckers))
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| P2: Hey, look ma. |
| Fuck this, I gotta talk to you. |
| How do we kill those
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| thiiiings?
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| P1: You don’t
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| P2: The FUCK you mean you don’t?
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| P1: Burt, you don’t kill those mothers, they’re already dead. |
| You gotta
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| understand they’re not living creatures, they’re animated. |
| I mean you can chop
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| them up into pieces and pieces, they’ll still come after you
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| P2: Holy FUCK
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| P1: All you can do is just burn them. |
| Gotta totally reduce them to ashes so
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| there’s nothing left to came after you
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| P3: How are you gonna burn all those things?
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| P2: Man, there’s 100 of those fuckers
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| P1: Yeah, that is the question |