Sam Peckinpah

I walk in the Pentagon with a blood soaked hatchet
Leave the president’s nose shattered
Stretch his neck like Go Gadget and toe tag it
You a stone-cold faggot
I hold the chrome in a jacket
Go toe to toe with a savage and roll you over a cactus
Funerals with closed caskets, coke addicts, chrome ratchets, the whole package
I’ll beat Moses on the head with them stone tablets
I killed Kennedy, brains blown all over Onassis
I’ll hold my own with the axes and turn the Pope into ashes
Designed frequency, I’m a holy divine lyrical deity
Even atheists and heathens and non-believers believe in me
The punk-ass devil was born soft
I’ll pile-drive you like Paul Orndorff
Steal his pitchfork and rip his horns off
I’m the born force
Sick fuck, I’ll skin you alive and then carry the bones
Load the Ruger up and shoot you up like I’m Marion Jones
Vinnie is out of his dome, Guinea that carry the throne
Gimme, it’s that or be stoned, Trinity, that’ll be home
We 'bout to spas, R.A. and Vinnie Paz
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We don’t give a fuck, we don’t give a fuck
We don’t give a fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fuck
New Jack pussy, young rappers think their rapping is good
Young rappers get treated like fetuses in Planned Parenthood
This ain’t no Mickey Mouse zip-a-dee-doo-dah Disney, it’s the claws of a grizzly
It ain’t Wayne and Drizzy, it’s Thorburn and Vinnie
And R.A. that’s my brother there, anyone who unaware
I’m a leave 'em stumbling as if they had a ton of beer
I’m from Philly, ain’t a sucker to ever come from here
You a pussy, you see confrontation and you run from there
What kind of dirty bitch did your daddy put his sperm in?
Kiddie porn web searching, pervert jerking
You serpents is Satan’s servants
You get slain for certain if you put your faith inside of Satan serpents
Stick the blade inside you while I embrace you like my favorite person
Stay in Hell burning, slaves with chains on your brain like a turban
I make Abel kill Cain and get Bible pages reversing, brains
Bursting
It takes a taste of bourbon for me to rape a virgin
And Vinnie deal with mathematics like an Asian person
We 'bout to spas, R.A. and Vinnie Paz
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We don’t give a fuck, we don’t give a fuck
We don’t give a fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fuck
Hands like Roberto Durán, it’s the flight 103 Pan Am
It’s the Gulf War between Iraq and Iran
Treat you like Indians, I’m snatching your land
I’m more Dapper than Dan
I’m Rakim, I master the plan
I bring The Roots without having a band
Without having a fan I could a never took care of my fam
I could a never done all the tours on the shores of Japan
Still would’ve slaughtered your man
Still would’ve aborted the plan
Still an apostle from Sham
Still I’m like God in Sudan
We 'bout to spas, R.A. and Vinnie Paz
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We don’t give a fuck, we don’t give a fuck
We don’t give a fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fu-fuck
We 'bout to spas
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We 'bout to spas
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We 'bout to spas
R.A. and Vinnie Paz
We 'bout to spas
R.A. and Vinnie Paz