Thoughts of immortality
The good kid from the ugly city
Instead of living this life of violent crime
I shoot you and kill ya homie, with the same damn nine
Feeling, of appealing
Get off a key like i can’t sing
Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son
Lyrics sound like a spasm, like i'm speaking latin,
Furniture made of the flesh of my foes
Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes
Part of my heart beat, inside of me
Look dog, don't be asking for dame, see
And when you're black or latin know they administer aids,
Worldwide, but i got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades
Of being of always getting wired
Its no days off, although i'm bored to work
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