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Artist:Fort Minor  Album:We Major 

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(Hey Joe, a-were you goin' with that gun in your hand?) Tony: Yeah? Chris: It's me. Tony: Called you half-a-fuckin' hour ago. Chris: Yea, Adriana put my keys where I couldn't find 'em. Tony: Go to the drug store, get two pairs of surgical gloves, some bleach, come to our friend's house - the contractor. Yo, swing the sword for the classic year Bring the noise with your hands up, slash and tear Who can, fathom asthma, dash for air Spitting on the baby bib in the plastic chair What's up stupid? Shoot this 1-5-1 in the shot glass, hot flash Banging on the drum, huh We cause havoc down in Las Vegas Paper trails racing Pelican Brief-cases We outrageous, name the streets gave us Yeah, we got fame, but now we heat blazers I let them all fly, ten in the clip, one in the chamber Thumbs up, another banger Untuck the flamer, dumb fuck It's like getting hit with a dump truck Brains and guts Maim, cut, aim, duck, same, stuff Get you cracked up like cocaine, heat 'em up OK, I'll let a sucka's fly once Face down, found him in his Cap'n Crunch Uh, malpractice - a bang-all jam I joust rappers and track in the radar scans Flip beats for the crew like fleets and platoons Reach for the moon like Reese Witherspoon, uh Don't stop the sure-shot, the rooftop anthem Blast the gold box, cock back the cannon What's up partna, I got ya (what, what) Hope that spoken gunshots crack the piñata Slap, box, mouth of backwash Teeth mashed up on the asphalt, ya dig? Set the pace like a mustang, mashin' Up the stakes, who wanna cut the cake, I take cash Dropped on a blood-stained mattress Stop, you ain't got access, watch

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