| So you need to change your attitude
|
| 'Fore they asking what happened to you
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| Lord forgive him, he got them dark forces in him
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| But he also got a righteous cause for sinning
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| Them-a-murder me, so I gotta murder them first
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| Emergency, doctors performing procedures
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| Jesus, I ain’t trying to be facetious, but
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| «Vengeance is mine» sayeth the Lord
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| You said it better than all
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| Leave niggas on death’s door, breathing on
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| Respirators for killing my best boy, haters
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| On permanent, hiatus as I skate
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| In the Maybach Benz, flyer than Sanaa Lathan
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| Pumping «Brown Sugar» by D’Angelo
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| In Los Angeles, like an evangelist
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| I can introduce you to your maker
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| Bring you closer to nature
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| Ashes after they cremate you bastards
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| Hope you been reading your psalms and chapters
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| Paying your tithe, being good Catholics, I’m coming
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| (Lucifer, son of the morning I’m gonna chase you out of Earth)
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| I’m from the murder capital, where we murder for capital
|
| (Lucifer Lucifer, son of the morning! I’m gonna chase you out of Earth)
|
| (Kanyeezy you did it again, you a genius nigga!)
|
| So you need to change your attitude
|
| 'Fore they asking what happened to you
|
| Yes, this is holy war
|
| I wet y’all all with the holy water
|
| Spray from Heckler-Koch automatic
|
| All the static, shall cease to exist
|
| Like a sabbatical, I throw couple at you, take six!
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| Spread love, to all of my dead thugs
|
| I pour out a little Louis, to a head above
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| Yessir, and when I perish, the meek shall inherit the Earth
|
| 'Til that time, it’s on and popping, church
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| Like Don Bishop, the fifth or palm cock either
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| Lift up your soul or give you the holy ghost
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| Please I leave you in somebody’s cathedral
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| For stunting like Evel Knievel
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| I let you see where that bright light lead you
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| The more you talk, the more you irking us
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| The more you gon' need memorial services
|
| The Black Album, second verse, is like
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| Devil’s pie, save some dessert for us
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| Man, I gotta get my soul right
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| I gotta get these devils out my life
|
| These cowards gonna make a nigga ride
|
| They won’t be happy 'til somebody die
|
| Oh man, I gotta get my soul right
|
| 'Fore I’m locked up for my whole life
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| Every time it seems it’s alright
|
| Somebody want they soul to rise
|
| I chase you off of this earth
|
| (Let me get serious for y’all, one second)
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| I got dreams, of holding a nine milla, to Bob’s killer
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| Asking him why as my eyes fill up
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| These days I can’t wake up with a dry pillow
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| Gone but not forgotten, homes I still feel you
|
| So, curse the day that birthed the bastard
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| Who caused your church mass, reverse the crash
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| Reverse the blast and reverse the car
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| Reverse the day and there you are, Bob Allah
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| Lord forgive him, we all have sinned
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| But Bob’s a good dude, please let him in
|
| And if you feel in my heart that I long for revenge
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| Please blame it on the son of the morning, thanks again |