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Some think that I'm a flake, but I'm no fake nigga cause I
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Drink a bitch, make him a witch and burn his ass at the stake
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With the .44 mag it's so simple
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Put it to his temple, fuck it, I give a nigga permanent dimples
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Easing up on the fast slow, but I let your ass know
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The block's too hot like Tabasco
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Brand New Heavies on the tracks, G Rap on the wax
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Cold bumping, got motherfuckers doing jumping jacks
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You motherfuckers lost it
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I bake your ass like a cake and all y'all flakes get frosted
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Cause when G Rap is on the mix
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Niggas start shitting bricks and turning into chick with small dicks
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So a bitch, lyrics with a live band
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(Yo this shit is funky) Yo fuck funky, the shit hit the fan
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Shame if you're stepping to my set
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You niggas get wet, nah fuck it, it's just a motherfucking death threat
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Yeah, I got you bitches on lockdown, you niggas get knocked down
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You're running cause I'm gunning your block down, punk
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So save the bitch riff cause my four-fifth lifts
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I'm tossing stiff off of fucking cliffs
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Get close, I got you on scope, you walking on thin rope
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So I'm a shoot 'em up like dope
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Cause to make my notes I'm a cut throats
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Bodies are thrown off boats and do a dead man's float
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Straight down a river
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Huh, with a bullet inside his motherfucking liver
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Another hooker got thrown out
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Stepped right into the crossfire and got her brains blown out
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So you niggas better buck
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Cause when my coat's full of buckshots, I don't give a fuck
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You think you're down with the murder guys
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Bullshit, say hello to that dirt you're gonna fertilize
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You wonder why the area's stark
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Homicides just fell ten bones since our car drove
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When they opened the other trunks that were closed
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Full of five unidentified John Does
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All found dead on arrival
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Cause I pulled up slowly and made 'em holy like Bibles
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They find a letter and cassette
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Red and said it's just a motherfucking death threat
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Send the bodies to the morgue for a freezing
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I got the motherfucking finger on the trigger cause it's nigga season
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A punk tried to drop me
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I left the body sloppy so they can't perform an autopsy
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Dig a hole for the bitch
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And put all his pieces and bits inside a ditch
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Yo, you don't think you're going under
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I got a bullet with your name, your address, and your phone number
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So if you want to play games
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I'm blowing you the fuck out the frame
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You tried to front and got murdered last night
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So now you float to the motherfucking light
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So I'm a step to your grave and make a toast
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And start shooting at your motherfucking ghost
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So may the Lord be with ya
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Cause I ain't no saint and I don't paint pretty pictures
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It ain't nothing but bloodshed
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Stains of brains on the rug and less blood in your head
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You want to make me upset?
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Huh, then I'm a promise you a motherfucking death threat
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-----------------
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Death Threat
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| Kool G. Rap |