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They tell me they're gonna execute me for murder
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unless I make a deal
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and implicate the man who made me do it.
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Now, I'm no psychic, but I am a gambling man.
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And all my money's
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on Albert Reid singing like a choir girl.
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You want to take that bet?
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It had my name on it.
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Really? And he ate it anyway?
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-Yes. He ate it anyway. -Dog.
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Bye.
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The lieutenant ate my pizza.