Letras The Hate and the Blame - Army of the Pharaohs, Vinnie Paz, Apathy

The Hate and the Blame

I keep it dirty like Louisiana swamp rats\nBikers with the jail tats\nUndiscovered body in the house so the mail stacks\nStale Ap, fuck hailing Satan, I’ll impale him in Salem Mass\nCompared to me, the Devil is trailer trash\nGod awful apostle, fossilized\nThese know-it-all mahfuckers trying to philosophize\nBunch of Youtube scholars\nSwear they kicking it deep as Genius\nTheories of the Illuminati and Jesus\nPlease bitch, you brand new, New Jack amateur\nBack in '94 me and Vin was studying the Urantia\nHoly tabernacles, Zecharia Sitchin\nYou bullshit, admit your fact written was straight fiction\nE.S. can make it happen\nBlatantly breaking your back and\nRappers are fake when they’re clapping\nCartridges this artist is a narcissistic arsonist\nCarcasses start to decompose\nWe throw 'em in ocean for the shark and fish to gargle with\nThis sword, I sharpen this, no Excalibur but never tarnishes\nI’ll bring the carnage to your cartilage, you want no parts of this\nNo, the most arrogant character causing massacre, laugh at ya\nI’m the last of cast since the Perriah\nA rap critter’s messiah, the glass prism reflection of that wisdom\nSo cold the water froze at my baptism\nBut I’ll still burn you quicker than my skin in Africa\nAttach you to a catheter, AOTP ambassador\nArtillery stop enemies, got plenty\nYou’re not killing anything with the shots you’re sending\nCrush ya bus pipes, you can hear the metal bending\n(The Army’s here)\nThere can only be one ending\nEverybody hit the floor, y’all don’t got a choice\nI hit hard like the bass that was in my father’s voice\nI ain’t soft, if a rock god anoints\nOften wrong, never in doubt like Donny Deutsch\nSee I was robbing motherfuckers, a taker of things\nThe star chaser, a law of nature, maker of wings\nEmpire of Egypt with your critical thinking\nIt was never the fetus of physical sinking\nSeek truth find knowledge and became wisdom\nAccurately accepting from the same prism\nI’m the man behind the number what the game missing\nPeace to all of my brothers that’s in the state prison\nI would never lay lifeless across the gurney\nI would never flip flop go topsey turvey\nThat audible shit I do it cold turkey\nYou will never air me out or do me dirty\nI’ll bring the hurricane to you like I was Testaverde\nNiggas extra thirsty, love to beg for mercy\nI don’t stress no bird, they do not concern me\nPaz flex the thirty, eight to stretch they jersey\nAnd they all play dumb like they ain’t heard of me\nSo I’ma murder them before they murder me\nCan’t paint the town red cause all I see is burgundy\nSo if you see me on the strip it’s an emergency\nIf I said it once I said it a thousand times\nYou couldn’t see me if I let you spit a thousand rhymes\nA cloud of smoke, the only thing I left behind\nCome after mine, I protect it with that black iron\nIt ain’t about a punchline when it’s crunch time\nIt’s all about the moonlight then the sunshine\nCause when it’s dark out\nAnd the hawks out\nThem hammer jammers go bananas for your parka ock\nDon’t get your life took\nDon’t get your wife took\nShe’d rather be with me I can tell it just by the look\nBeen living by the book\nPharaoh in the big city\nI don’t survive I thrive I am one of many