Assassin's Prayerbook Lyrics

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

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