Samuel Vincent - Assassin's Prayerbook
Yeah
I used to be a fool with a spade
I've kept the pen in my hand as a tool of the trade
The lines I spit are complex like Akkadian
I drop you in the Fertile Crescent, Mesopotamian
Yeah
Gimme a break like Blake Clark
You a minnow homie, I'm a great shark
The only thing we have in common is we dead inside
You don't want that Chara route, genocide
The streets are gonna flow with your blood, deluge
The wolf of these hard streets popping Quaaludes
Heh
Rest in peace to Blacastan
Eat you like Mutton Korma from Pakistan
You a cheesy mother fucker like a Packers fan
I attack, throw you in the back of the blackest van
Visions of Gandhi but I'm not bringing the peace
I fry you up homie like I was slinging some grease
★ Verse ★
I'm back in the saddle again
I tackle your friend like I sack a quarterback in the end
I'm grabbin' the pen and a few 40s of Old English
We rally with a few older shorties that know lingus
Ha
My rhymes are too hot I stoke the fires
I run you over now all you do is choke on tires
The Pope retired now I'm stealing from the Vatican
I'm back again, I know my actions are the baddest sins
I ain't got time for you bitter sisters, Addison
Leave you stuttering like Oskar saying Madison
Avenue, you know I leave your face black and blue
And I don't even run 'em homie, I pack the jewels
I leave you beeping on the tile like I track your crew
All I see is Invisible Men, bandaged fools
Imma rule the whole world with an iron fist
I break your deathbed companion with a dying kiss
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