Gemini Lounge - Heavy Metal Kings, Vinnie Paz, Ill Bill

«You ready to uh, go on a, on a, on a contract?»

«If the price is right.

I’ll talk to anybody.»

«Yeah?»

«Sure.»

«And you mean to tell me that your way is nice and clean, and nothing fucking

shows up?»

«No it may show my friend, but it’s — it’s not messy, it’s not as noisy,

it’s not ah… You know?»

«Yeah but how the fuck do you put it together like, you know what I’m saying?»

«Well there’s always a way.

There’s a will, there’s a way, my friend.»

Yeah, son sloppy off of Percocet

Last time I ran up on him he was like a nervous wreck

You the type to wear a turtleneck

I ain’t choked him out dog, his face ain’t even purple yet

Take him to the fire pit and watch how much burn he get

Trash-compact the body and compress him like a tourniquet

Motherfuckers jelly like the Four Tops «Bernadette»

Baptism of fire, these motherfuckers burn to death

Bingmonster got his commissary in his palms

The God speak like it’s commentary on the Psalms

Chopping of his legs and we burying his arms

Kaczynski in his prime cause I’m very into bombs

They loping around like this was his own fault

Polite before I kill I greet you a boned jaw

Why would I respond to someone who type soft?

My hitters waiting for you, they turning your lights off!

«Dismembering bodies, did that turn your stomach?»

«I remember having a pizza one day, while we were doing something like that.»

«Pizza in one hand… Chainsaw in the other?»

«No… I didn’t like chainsaws.

See, chainsaws are messy.

All you get is little.

.

All over me I’d have these little pieces of meat…

Now that’s a pain in a neck.»

While you wonder whether or not I exist

I’mma spray you in the eyes with a cyanide mist

It kinda smell like lime piff, you be lying stiff

Long time before them nines click

I rob banks with a Macbook

My uncle taught me age thirteen, how the crack cook

Ha!

That was my Brooklyn Bar Mitzvah

Where I grew up everybody popped pistols

Hide the nickel-plated Zippo with crack

Underneath the park bench in the potato chip bag

March of the S.O.D brutaler than Anthrax

Shooters in dad-caps, troopers in gas masks

Killing’s my business like Megadeth

Kill you with a couple of lines like a Frazetta sketch

I spit raps that resemble death

Septagram, a fish tanks full of severed heads

«Murderer?»

«Yes.»

«Drug dealer?»

«Yes.»

«Thug?»

«Yes.»

«Only fucking thing I don’t understand, don’t you use a fucking piece of iron

to get rid of these fucking people, you use this fucking… Cyanide?»

«Why be messy?

You do it nice and calm.

You put that stuff in the mist,

you spray it in somebody’s face… And they go to sleep.»

What’s in the black army jacket cause seizures

My project staying hot at night like upper Egypt

Run up on priestess, Tel-Aviv heaters and beepers

Obese like Ralphie May in the scare with street sweepers

Impaled features, Sean Penn is the lawyer

What we do to your face, like what the surgeons did to La Toya

Cats ploy for the cameras, stretched jeans and bandanas

Styrofoam over the barrels, deserts and sledgehammers

Captive of Sin rock a gauntlet like Hellhammer

Heavy metal said you active like Gilda Radner

We go to warfare caps at your gallbladder

I keep the Maccabees close just like a tour banner

Murderfest with Nocturno Culto

We wrap the body up in the sunburned Volvo

Disembowel these rappers in suits like Chaz Bono

Black Kronos up in the crib with eighty cholos

«While he was in the middle of conversation I shot him, uh, two or three times

in the head, I don’t know which one, and I spit on him.

It was nothing,

it was like I just played a baseball game cause I was a big baseball player.

And, uh, I had a cheeseburger, double cheese, I can tell you what I had,

coke and fries.»

«He says he actually enjoyed murdering one man so much, he wished he could do

it again.»