We Ain't Scared

Proof

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    [Intro:]
    Dirty Harry is dead [x4]
    I'm here to announce that Dirty Harry is dead
    Now witness the life of his son, or Oil Can Harry, The Boss

    [Proof:]
    My life is trapped in these lines, that's why I'm packin' these nines
    I gotta rap I ain't dyin', that's in the back on my mind
    Got a strap made of iron, can't relax on this grind
    Bendin' over backwards for these slackers til I'm snappin' my spine
    Naturally, I gotta focus
    On these bogus poachers, lookin' over my shoulder, Proof get it poppin' like soda
    Hold up
    [Eminem:] (We nothin' but soldiers)
    Slow up
    [Eminem:] (This gun is loaded)
    Roll up
    [Eninem:] (They beef and we leavin' 'em coked up)
    If Em say it I spray it, if he willin' I kill it
    We kill packs to get iller Detroit, y'all can feel it
    Got this gun on my wasteline, in war we don't waste time
    Ja, man he can't take a punch and 50 can take nine
    We got School Craft here at the 7, 8, and text her
    I'm up in Holly, spendin' dollas, ain't feelin' no pressure
    Yes sir, your texture is bitch, bet'cha ya flinch
    When Proof shoot up they coup, and wet your whole clique
    Fuck it who's next on this shit, this is prefrence to bitch
    When you preface to stiffen slugs enter your wig
    You'll be next to BIG, Pac is destiny kid
    Before ya lead get popped, stop testin' me bitch

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    [Chorus:]
    Homie you think you tough (what)
    Think we won't fuck you up (punk)
    Even the innocent get pistol-whipped by this pistol grip (punk)
    Talkin' shit you drunk (what)
    Think I won't fuck you up (punk)
    We both deep, I ain't scared and I don't give a fuck (jump)

    [Proof:]
    I ain't feel no games, homie don't even try
    We ain't bowin' down to no one we gon' start a riot (yeah)
    Heart of fire, soul of ice, roll the dice, see what you get
    No advice, all my life I ain't leavin' in this bitch
    I'm a man, more I'm holdin' my ground
    To loadin' these rounds, at any call approachin' my ground (blah)
    I'm a kid but grimey, nothin' but killas
    And behind me, I'm a bully fully cuz your team is tiny
    If I was to crush 'em, got to say these Bibles are nothin'
    This rifle on clutches to leave you stifled on crutches
    I fight for my cousins that ain't even related
    Even I stated, not from life I leave you bleedin' and faded
    Hatin' made in my nature, I'm clappin' and clackin' your captain
    Smackin' faggots and act as a rapper with platinum status, ya livin'
    flappin' 'em slappin' 'em backwards
    After these rappers' status
    To shadders, knowin' Proof and that Mathers has gathered an army
    It's Shady bandatas
    After rest the game is won, who in the matters get blamed fast with brain damage
    The name that some forgot, D12, it ain't hard to feel, guard ya grill, it's REAL!

    [Chorus]

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