[Intro: Sample]
I was gonnna rip his heart out, I'm the best ever
I'm the most brutal and most vicious and most ruthless champion there's ever been
My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable
And I'm just ferocious, I want your heart!
I wanna eat your children, praise be to Allah!
[Verse 1: Vinnie Paz]
They call me Kublai Khan, ready for war with a Ruger 9
I'm ready with a machete for Rudy Giulian
I'm ready for anybody who want war
Y'all ain't nice with the hands, you can't brawl
You can't stall, behold the black horses
I'm runnin' up in ya church to smack crosses
You lack rawness, you lack passion
You couldn't make it through war without rations
You just a homosexual
I think the gay rights movement should meet you and invest in you
Rhymin' 'bout flowers and shit
And poets on the mic for twenty hours and shit
I'm housin' ya shit
Shuttin' ya fuckin' mic off
Snatch ya fuckin' poetry book and then kick the dyke off
Set the fight off, show 'em what real rap is
Real rhymes, real beats and real clappers
And we blast until cover
Make you see murder like Master P brother
(Yea, what's the deal baby, yea, free Ras Kass, feel me)
I was gonnna rip his heart out, I'm the best ever
I'm the most brutal and most vicious and most ruthless champion there's ever been
My style is impetuous, my defense is impregnable
And I'm just ferocious, I want your heart!
I wanna eat your children, praise be to Allah!
[Verse 1: Vinnie Paz]
They call me Kublai Khan, ready for war with a Ruger 9
I'm ready with a machete for Rudy Giulian
I'm ready for anybody who want war
Y'all ain't nice with the hands, you can't brawl
You can't stall, behold the black horses
I'm runnin' up in ya church to smack crosses
You lack rawness, you lack passion
You couldn't make it through war without rations
You just a homosexual
I think the gay rights movement should meet you and invest in you
Rhymin' 'bout flowers and shit
And poets on the mic for twenty hours and shit
I'm housin' ya shit
Shuttin' ya fuckin' mic off
Snatch ya fuckin' poetry book and then kick the dyke off
Set the fight off, show 'em what real rap is
Real rhymes, real beats and real clappers
And we blast until cover
Make you see murder like Master P brother
(Yea, what's the deal baby, yea, free Ras Kass, feel me)
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