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And now you're telling me you haven't even been to a war. You're not sorry. You don't know what the fuck to feel sorry for. Awesome. Get the fuck out.
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Woke up with fifty enemies plottin' my death
All fifty seein' visions of me shot in the chest
Couldn't rest, nah nigga I was stressed
Had me creepin' 'round corners, homie sleepin' in my vest.
-Breathin, Tupac.
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