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Three days ago, somebody put a box on my doorstep
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with a gun and a photo of a guy
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I'd never met before, expecting me to kill him.
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And if I don't kill this guy in the next eight hours...
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I'm never going to get her back.
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Then I met this guy. He's a decent guy.
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He's got a family.
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How could they expect...
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some...
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Shit.
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What's goin' on, homes?
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Let go of that, homes.