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May 2015
We can break bread or stand and make threats.
Man we can grab the cannons, blast and face death.
When this is all over you'll have half a face left.
For the rest of your life with a limp, you'll take steps.
I could end this rhyme right now and save breathe,
but I haven't said all I've got to say yet.
You ain't a killer you a dog, now just go and play fetch.
You a coward and a liar Fido, run off and play dead.
The wolves'll ******* find you we don't often stay penned;
all the **** you've been talking will see you pay debts.
You won't find time to scream "mama this is the end!"
When I get my hands on you and open your head.
Jacob Christopher
Written by
Jacob Christopher  Buffalo, NY
(Buffalo, NY)   
485
     Dr Zik, ---, Destre', ---, --- and 1 other
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