{"id":48603,"date":"2012-12-12T15:43:39","date_gmt":"2012-12-12T07:43:39","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/lins-bros.com\/?p=48603"},"modified":"2012-12-12T15:45:07","modified_gmt":"2012-12-12T07:45:07","slug":"game-dead-people-%e6%ad%8c%e8%af%8dlyrics","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/lins-bros.com\/?p=48603","title":{"rendered":"Game \u2013 Dead People (\u6b4c\u8bcd\/Lyrics)"},"content":{"rendered":"

Graveyards in my pocket.
\nTombstones in my wallet.
\nIf you talkin’ ’bout my profit,
\nAll I see is dead people.
\nAll I see is dead people.
\nYou starve so when my momma tryna make a couple dollars,
\nAny n*gga with a problem, they be dyin’ over dead people.
\nMuthaf-ckin’ dead people.<\/p>\n

This sh*t gets deep.
\nDon’t f-ck with me.
\nYou end up six feet deep.
\nListen to how I did it.
\nI crept up slow on Willow.
\nThinkin’ ’bout climbin’ through the f-ckin’ window.
\nIn the backseat, potato burners.
\nSki mask, body bag, duct tape, and a pillow.
\nIn the front solo.
\nSittin’ low with the lights out.
\nFeelin’ like Manson on some Sonny Sam sh*t.
\nWith a murder on my mind that my mind on the homicide,
\nAnd my watch said they outta time.
\nSomebody gotta die, bottom line.
\nFront page, column nine.
\nHeadline: Another Columbine.
\nI plan and plot and strategized, and thought about it.
\nLoaded up everything in the closet.
\nMy objective is to get bloody.
\nThey can beg and plead, yell and scream.
\nTry to leave, get in cheese, pray to God on they knees, but I’m still gettin’ f-cking ugly.
\nI f-ckin’ love it.
\nTook this n*gga by his throat and f-ckin’ cut it and thought nothin’ of it.
\nIt’s simple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy.
\nIt’s simple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy of mine.<\/p>\n

(Man, I feel like killin’ me a muaf-cka.)<\/p>\n

Last night, I must’ve had a blast choppin’ up bodies.
\nWoke up bloody as f-ck in the hospital lobby.
\nBody filled with adrenaline.
\nNot rememberin’ what I did to get all this blood on my f-ckin’ Timberlands.
\nCop’s sayin’ I did what to him?
\nShowin’ me pictures of cut-up b*tches, disfigured members with body parts missin’.
\nListen, I ain’t do sh*t, I don’t know sh*t.
\nMan, I don’t give a f-ck about that b*tch.
\nf-ck whatever she said, f-ck whatever she saw -it wasn’t me.
\nOh no no, not me.
\nListen to the alibi.
\nI was at the movies -that Avatar sh*t,
\nWith them 3-D glasses on,
\nAnd that sh*t longer than muaf-cka.
\nLook at my pocket, get the tickets though.
\nThat’s my alibi, b*tch.
\nNow what up?
\nFresh out the cuffs, now I’m back on the outside,
\nAnd headed west where Homicide reside.
\nThat’s my n*gga.
\nHe live on 1st and 48th right next to the white chalk in between the yellow tape,
\nBehind the black gate.
\nRottwielders and pitbulls, surrounded by snakes, AK’s and AR’s.
\nSome n*ggas hard to play, some n*ggas play hard
\nBut that house right there -don’t go in they yard
\nIt’s simple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy.
\nIt’s simple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy of mine.<\/p>\n

(Man, I feel like killin’ me a muaf-cka.)<\/p>\n

Beware of dark sh*t., shot ’em through the fence
\nTough offensive line men couldn’t stop the blitz.
\nThem n*ggas inside, a couple kittens
\nAnd this right here: good riddance.
\nn*gga f-ck around, its suicide for instance
\nPicture the mind of a bullet
\nHere I come -I can smell the flesh aimin’ for your head or neck.
\nn*gga, pray to God I won’t hit your chest.
\nNow here I come straight outta drum, headed for your lungs.
\nYou in my sight.
\nThe last one didn’t do it right,
\nAnd I’m waitin’.
\nJust lookin’ at you.
\nThinkin’ ’bout it and gettin’ tired of lookin’ at you.
\nHi, daddy, remember me?
\nGoodbye, daddy, this is what it gotta be.
\nYou brought me in this world, now I’m takin’ you out.
\nNow you open up your muthaf-ckin’ mouth.
\nSimple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy.
\nSimple insanity.
\nJust a murderous fantasy of mine.<\/p>\n

(Now I feel like killin’ me a muaf-cka.)<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"