[Verse 1:]
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Hotboxing the whip with piff from the ziplock
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Guns come from Big Lots, blunts from the Quick Stop
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Scheming on a plot trying to rob Mr. Big Shot
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Strip you for your little chip of the rock
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Stay equipped with the Glocks, you left for dead sifting through rocks
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Gave your girlfriend my dick in a box
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All the dirt I got on my hands I should have rocks in my wristwatch
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But I pick Glocks over chocolates in the gift box
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Chase you down the staircase, pop you in the lobby
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Feed you hot slugs, each shot is a hot tamale
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Spot where we put the bodies is hot as the Mojave
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Probably time to find a new hobby
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Before cops is sending out the bloodhounds, rounding up the posse
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Reckless niggas with more records than disc jockeys
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Play their records on CNN and Hard Copy
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Play the part where they show the heart in the autopsy
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[Interlude:]
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Everyone of you is alive, your death has got nothing to do with it.
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You already survived many deaths, but you don't know anything about it.
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How much have you learned in this life?
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How much have you truly learned that makes a difference?
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[Verse 2:]
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I'm a motherfucking headhunter, a cold winter to a dead summer
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Doesn't matter the weather, I'm still a lead-dumper
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You can find the fucking body in the red dumpster
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20+ years, cousin couldn't dead hunger (Still hungry, motherfuckers)
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See it's the gutter that I rap
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I nickname gats, they my butterfly effect
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The boxcutter or the TEC
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Some of my brothers is on their deen, some of them provide the wet
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And some of them provide the birdos
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Jail motherfuckers that'll buck you on their furlough
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I run through a wall, never heard of hurdles
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Manos de Piedra, I'm Roberto, you a fucking herb though
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I've been getting money since my third show
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My new Kel-Tec is berzerko, only smoke the purple
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Y'all just fucking stand around in circles
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Me and Jus Allah controversial
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Willing A Destruction Onto Humanity
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Jedi Mind Tricks |