Luyện nghe bài hát Dead People

in my pocket.
in my wallet.
If you talkin' my profit,
All I see is people.
All I see is people.
You starve so my momma tryna make a couple dollars,
Any with a problem, they be dyin' over dead people.
Muthafuckin' people.

This shit deep.
Don't fuck me.
You end up six deep.
to how I did it.
I up slow on Willow.
'bout climbin' through the fuckin' window.
In the backseat, burners.
Ski mask, bag, duct tape, and a pillow.
In the solo.
Sittin' low the lights out.
Feelin' Manson on some Sonny Sam shit.
With a on my mind that my mind on the homicide,
And my watch they outta time.
Somebody die, bottom line.
Front page, nine.
Another Columbine.
I and plot and strategized, and thought about it.
Loaded up in the closet.
My is to get bloody.
They can beg and plead, and scream.
Try to leave, get in cheese, pray to God on they knees, but I'm gettin' fucking ugly.
I love it.
Took this nigga by his throat and cut it and thought nothin' of it.
simple insanity.
Just a fantasy.
It's insanity.
a murderous fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel like me a mother fucka.)

Last night, I must've had a blast up bodies.
Woke up bloody as in the hospital lobby.
Body with adrenaline.
Not what I did to get all this blood on my fuckin' Timberlands.
sayin I did what to him?
Showin me pictures of cut-up bitches, disfigured members with body missin.
Listen, I ain't do shit, I don't shit.
Man, I don't give a fuck that bitch.
Fuck she said, fuck whatever she saw, it wasn't me.
Oh no no, not me.
to the alibi.
I was at the movies, that shit,
With them 3-D on,
And that shit longer mother fucka.
Look at my pocket, get the though.
my alibi, bitch.
Now up?
Fresh out the cuffs, now I'm on the outside,
And headed west where reside.
my nigga.
He live on 1st and 48th right next to the white chalk in between the tape,
Behind the gate.
Rottwielers and pitbulls, by snakes, AK's and AR's.
Some hard to play, some niggas play hard
But that house there, don't go in they yard
It's insanity.
Just a fantasy.
simple insanity.
Just a fantasy of mine.
(Man, I feel killin me a mother fucka.)

of dark shit, shot 'em through the fence
Tough offensive line men couldn't the blitz.
Them niggas inside, a couple
And right here, good riddance.
Nigga fuck around, it's suicide for
Picture the mind of a
I come I can smell the flesh aimin' for your head or neck.
Nigga, to God I won't hit your chest.
Now here I come straight outta drum, headed for lungs.
You in my sight.
The one didn't do it right,
And I'm waitin.
lookin at you.
Thinkin about it and gettin tired of at you.
Hi, daddy, me?
Goodbye, daddy, is what it gotta be.
You me in this world, now I'm takin you out.
Now you open up muthafuckin mouth.
insanity.
Just a fantasy.
insanity.
Just a fantasy of mine.
(Now I feel killin me a mother fucka.)