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It's not a possibility you could ever survive |
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That's just the logicality of the Devil inside |
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Any ounce of goodness in me was never revived |
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Disconnected or completely connected with God |
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The hell-hound spellbound where destiny lie |
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The bells sound, knelt down, the effigy cry |
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A couple rappers want a beef they respectfully die |
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They ended up losing they teeth, but I left them alive |
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I clash with skull in one hand, the other a spine |
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I snap a motherf**ker head, he dead on the dime |
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I carve a muh'f**ker up like Geppetto with knives |
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That's the magic of the Persian and Arab design |
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That's the marriage of exertion, inertia defined |
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That's the savage that was perfectly nurtured in time |
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I put pacifists in caskets, my version of crime |
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I'm an assassin and my passion is bursting your mind |
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[Verse 2: R.A. The Rugged Man] |
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Sirens and ambulances in the streets, there's race, riots and panthers |
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And cops hosing down innocent bystanders |
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Hand grenades and shanks, automatic bullets, pray to the banks |
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Government emergency military sending in tanks |
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How did I get in this position? |
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I'm sick of living, Kevorkian vision |
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And bridge jumpin', razor blade wrists slittin' |
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In the car garage carbon monixide sniffin', wine glass full of cyanide sippin' |
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Russian roulette, the chamber's spinnin' |
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Death by my own manslaughter |
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I'm going out like Ernest Hemingway and his sister and his brother and his father and his granddaughter |
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Society losing religion, there's too much heat in Lucifer's kitchen |
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Never know if a politician's speaking truth or fiction |
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You spit with true conviction you'll be the victim of a crucifixion |
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The hangman will leave you from a noose swinging and ruin your mission |
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Not every punk on the street is recruitable |
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These snitches will start singing and turn the police precinct into a musical |
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Most these thugs is snitching ass cowards |
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You ain't nothing but somebody's bitch in prison getting dick in the showers |
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Too many sleeping on me like narcolepsy, my weapon arsenal is deadly |
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I'm definitely an artist, they ain't ever market it correctly |
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Piss on the pavement in the public, jerk my dick on the Fox News |
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Police piss me off, I'll pull it out and piss on they cop shoes, come on |
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[Verse 3: Vinnie Paz] |
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You gonna turn this robbery to a homicide |
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The Desert Eagle is lethal, evil personified |
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Dominicans here take you for a dollar ride |
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You want beef you gonna lose god stop his vibe |
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I don't respect life, pussy if you die, you die |
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Most high, Rastafar-I, eye and eye |
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I'm always gonna keep it gutter like a five and dime |
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And when I die the prophecy gonna stay alive |
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Yeah, and y'all should study all the things that's written |
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About the Roman Empire and the Kings of Britain |
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Merlin exists and manuscripts have been forbidden |
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And understand that King James is a piece of fiction |
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My box game like Mantova |
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I'm no fool, I'm old school like my grandfather |
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Ain't nobody take my punch that can stand conscious |
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Psychologically imbalanced, I'm a man's conscience |