| Once upon a time in an apartment home
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| Lived a little girl with a heart of stone
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| Cause part of her heart was partly gone
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| Rarely seen and hardly known
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| Treated like a mat in a boxing ring
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| Blood drop stains on the twin box springs
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| Daddy came to visit it’s not a dream
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| She thought to herself «what is happening?»
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| Above her head is a crucifix
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| But Lucifer loosens up his wrist
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| Lays her down with an open fist
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| And all that was left was hopelessness
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| Little girl, where’s your loving mother?
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| Under the covers, under the covers
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| Little girl, what have you discovered?
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| She stuttered…
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| No more, fairy tales, and songs
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| No place like hell, no place like home
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| Black and white, in a frame
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| There we are, safe and sound
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| Stray guns, no aim, yea!
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| Growin' up in the gutter!
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| (And you ain’t gotta be from the projects to deal with this nonsense)
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| 'Cause even in suburbia somebody will murder ya
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| Over nothin', leave your body slumpin' in the parkin' lot of your complex
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| Violence is a hard pill to swallow and digest
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| My town is full of drug dealers, most of 'em get shot in the process
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| Hustlin' and stackin' up profits
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| They robbin' mutherfuckas like they havin' a contest
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| Shit, he took a bitch to his apartment to brag
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| A week later he tied up on the carpet and gagged
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| 'Cause he showed her all the pills he had for sale for the low
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| She told her cousin then her cousin grabbed a Glock and a mag
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| Kicked-in his door, laid him down, then he shot him and dashed
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| Ran off with all that he had, used to be ballin' now he got a colostomy bag
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| What you know about that?
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| Middle-class white bitch slangin' her body for crack
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| Mexican drug cartels, you hear the buckshot shells
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| And then the blood clot fails, there ain’t no healin' the wounds
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| Biggest meth bust on the East Coast, right here in Duluth
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| My lyrics are proof of growin' up in the gutter
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| You think you can define how hard you got it?!
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| By what neighborhood you live in muthafucker
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| Wake up in the gutter!
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| No more, fairy tales, and songs
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| No place like hell, no place like home
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| Black and white, in a frame
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| There we are, safe and sound
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| Stray guns, no aim, yea!
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| Growin' up in the gutter!
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| Slumerican indeed, I am
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| Drug through the mud like a weed, what I am
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| Was child who was beat, I am
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| Leather belts that made me, I am
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| Home alone again at 8, I am
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| Somebody’s life to rate, I am
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| Given to the beast by fate, I am
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| The one who did escape, I am
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| A voice for the cold in the dark, I am
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| The one who sold his heart, I am
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| From a family torn apart, I am
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| A target for your dart, I am
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| Sick again from the whips, I am
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| Head to the gun and click, I am
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| A soul that don’t run from shit, I am
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| Exposed to the g.o.a.t.s. |
| of sin, I am
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| Met a ghost and he said, I am
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| In the basement in red, I am
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| Dead cause the Ouija board said, I-A-M
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| No more, fairy tales, and songs
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| No place like hell, no place like home
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| Growin' up in the gutter
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| Black and white, in a frame
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| There we are, safe and sound
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| Stray guns, no aim, yea!
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| Growin' up in the gutter! |