| «For a true writer, each book should be a new beginning
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| 'fore he tries again, for something that is beyond the pain
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| He should always try for something, that has never been done;
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| Or that others have tried, and failed
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| Then sometimes, with good luck, he will succeed.»
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| Where we livin in the city where the law is 3 strikes
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| We rock Nikes and victims get no pity, vision isn’t pretty
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| Shit I’m spitting’s gritty, with the precision of Bibby
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| Dribble in the transition I’m like Nixon with the ribbie
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| Outstanding in my field like, Janet with her titty
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| Witty with the ammunition I’m commandin a committee
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| Piss-drunk, shitty-faced, steppin out of state
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| Ready to faint, jettin with Denny, blunted to fresh paint
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| MC’s, steady squeeze 'til the heater is empty
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| We get B’s 'til they think that bleedin people is trendy
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| When I’m disses, legions wanna leave to defend me
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| Therefore bitches wanna keep me like Aziz to Effendi
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| Your girls are homegrown, they just regional entries
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| I get floor models open like the keys to a Bentley
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| The media frenzy’s gettin greener with envy
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| So I’m like Randy Johnson, thought I’d treat 'em all friendly
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| «Beacuse he was always dreaming of impossible inventions, and adventures
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| And explorations in the remotest parts of the Earth, he was generally known
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| In the neighborhood as Commander, Crackpot, oh ho ho!»
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| Yeah, c’mon
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| Yo I came in this game with my attitude pissy
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| A hot celly and a potbelly like Missy
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| A Makaveli fury and a pocket full of whiskey
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| With so much damn rage I gotta stop to pull it with me
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| I dare the cops to come and get me, and mothers and they family
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| Callin up the motherfuckin governor to ban me
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| Tell Mr. Romney I got a pistol on me
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| And vocab that moves more like a vicious army
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| And these bitches will never disarm me
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| Calm me down mami I’m a human tsunami
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| Find me laid up in the back of an apartment to spy on me
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| So high on drugs that my face is purple as Barney
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| Fuck fashion and wearin Armani pants up
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| I stay playin a hot corner like Carney Lansford
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| But I ain’t no ballplayer athlete
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| fuckin rap demon with cracked teeth
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| It’s Slaine
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| «This is for your own good.»
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| «I know better than you what’s good for me.»
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| «John you’re breathing very hard.»
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| «That's the way I breathe. | 
| I breathe the best I can. | 
| ««You don’t like my breathing? | 
| I don’t like your breathing! | 
| ««You breathe like this you can drop dead Kenny.»
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| «John, no, don’t get angry, I’m only trying to be your friend.»
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| «I don’t want your friendship, and I don’t believe in friendship,
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| I don’t want that.»
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| «Well I’d be the first to say you’re certainly in a misanthropic mood today.»
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| «Yes I’m misanthropic! | 
| Very misanthropic indeed!»
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| «And I enjoy, being, misanthropic.» |