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paranoia - royce da 5'9'' lyrics

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call it paranoia. yea
every day is war. every day, n-gg-z is gon’ hate
gotta move

[royce da 5’9″]
i’m a walking target
i’m so far from soft, i’m probably close to the hardest
n-gg- you ever saw, been never thug, never had a problem
and the sh-t he never starts, sickest artist there ever was
n-gg- found dead in his house, don’t know who did it
yea, you bet it was me, n-gg-z die at the pavement
i’m wavin a nine out of the window and blazin
is your house shakin
who’s inside n-gg-, it’s funeral time n-gg-
they die from straight hits, pride wasted
cry your face, i ain’t your suit and your tie
now look what you made us
look at the witnesses, all of them look shakin
and alls they seen was the back of a green car with the plate flipped
look at the news, i did it without puttin a hit out own
you homies in chrome, watch that n-gg-

[chorus: royce]
i got my back, because it’s my gat
and my mouth that -started the war-
lookin around me, got a gun on my lap
while i’m drivin, taking the back routs -home-
if your headlights is in my rearview
for longer than three lights, and i don’t know you
i’ma pull over, and i might shoot you
you should go around me, and don’t look at me
’till after you p-ss me, cuz i might blast you n-gg- -i’m at war-
i’m paranoid, always on point
always holding n-gg-, always sober. call it paranoia

[la the darkman]
in your bushes, on the side of your house
waitin to smoke you when come in from hangin out
friday night, perfect, i timed it just right
i know you at the club cuz your car is nowhere in sight
i’m like the dc sniper, mr. malvo
strategically precise when i squeeze the cali-co
you look like a -sshole, full of sh-t
n-gg-z sure to get hit, when my fo-fo spit
black shirt, black jeans, black boots, black whip
black mask, paif of black leather gloves for my grip
i don’t need no print, a killer with a plan
makin sure i dont get, gunpowder on my hands
all drama i’ma end it, murder game splended
leavin all crews for the f-cker in forensics
i got, two dependants, i gotta make it home
clean get-away, two bullets through your dome
is locked n-gg-.

[chorus – la the darkman]

[royce da 5’9″ – spoken word]
and that’s just how the story goes y’all
any n-gg- where i’m from already knows
funny, my homie cuz said n-gg-z gon’ bring you a bowl
of soup when you sick
but if you die, then gonna love you later
think you a f-ckin statue or some sh-t
god bless these streets, god bless these streets right now
i’ma just be doing my thing so maybe, you know, i could show you how
don’t come lookin for trouble, cuz you just might find it
don’t stand too close to me, i’m always on point, never blinded

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