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Jimi the fly, he couldn't decide, was crossing a deadly line |
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Feelin' the heat, the word on the street was a contract for his life |
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He knew all along, if he sung the song, he'd scratch doing time |
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Stepped up to bat, squealed like a rat, now he's running for his life |
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He thought it was sealed, he was making the deal |
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When the feds brought down the sting |
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Under the knife, he was looking at life unless he turned the family in |
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He made up the play with the crooked d.a., never had to serve no time |
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Jimi the fly, organized crime |
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Nowhere to hide, scared deep inside and the walls were closing in |
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He made the mistake, now it's up to fate, and the fear was setting in |
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Feeling the strain, he then changed his name with a hand from |
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Johnny Law |
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They moved him out west, with a bullet proof vest, but you can't |
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Escape the mob |
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Jimi the fly was living a lie on the corner of 8th and 3rd |
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The life of a fink as he swallowed his drink, now his vision was slightly blurred |
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As he left the bar, drivin' up in a car were the suits that covered thugs |
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They fired their rounds, now dead on the ground lies a bloody soaked |
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Jimi the bug |