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We're pulling off heists and putting on wigs. |
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We're gathering ice off of flipped over |
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Brinks trucks |
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And everybody suspects us. |
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They rounded us up and rounded us down. |
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They ground our bones up and founded a town. |
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Where were the |
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Prophets when |
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I got my beat down? |
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CRACK! goes the crescent wrench. |
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Back to the present tense. |
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Tony's talking to me 'bout,"Get my money out!" |
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Legs shattered, |
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Teeth chatter, |
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Tony's crony's like,"What's the matter?" |
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Rack, pull the focus in, |
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Trapped in the basement, |
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Digging like a rabbit for a couple of karats. |
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Squeezing out of dryer vents, |
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On to my retirement, |
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Hopping over hedges, |
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And I'm back out on the street again. |
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CRACK! CRA |
|
CK! CRACK! |
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Where's that coming at? |
|
Slugs in the shrubs. |
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Kid down the street |
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Pissing from his pistol about 300 feet. |
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Didn't catch his cousin creeping up on me. |
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There's no better time |
|
To let the cannons fly |
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Because there are no whites |
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And there are no eyes. |