| Fuck a dead body, don’t pick 'em up, let 'em dry
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| East Side, 59, with the choppers out the ride
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| Mommas cry, kids die, second line, Vietnam
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| Testify, crucified, have your family by your side
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| Full of fuck shit, double my cup with mud, bitch
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| Sluts wanna suck dick, hit 'em with the drop kick
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| Bitch, your pussy nonsense
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| Demons with the Glock grip
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| $uicidal cult shit, love to watch the blood drip
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Dead man walking, ayy, yah, aye
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| Rather be dead than bored, settle the score
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| Let the metal pour right onto the floor
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| Fuck your brain, you fucking whore
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| Fuck your chain, you slave, I left the bloodstains on the door
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| Blade made of iron ore, made stains right on the shore
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| Washed away, the waves took it north
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| But now I try to stay warm
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| Catch another flight, and now I’m back on tour
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| Can’t relax me, motherfucking sacré-cœur
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| Used to make shit pop like fucking kettle corn
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah
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| I’m just a dead man walking, yeah |