Vinnie Paz — Requiem for Black Benjy in 2 Parts

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I’m Pavarotti with a shotty
Move the Charlie while I’m still part of the Little Rhody
The bricks is like Basmati we chop them like did karate
My shorty draped in a saree like Saraswati
To make a long story short I caught a body
This carajito couldn’t embody what I embody
He rubs shoulders with Stalin like Togliatti
Yellow and it look like Vanaspati
The Black Hills ammunition hotter than wasabi
I call Black Banners and I fly to Abu Dhabi
Scoop me at the ADI in the Maserati
Staring at a lithograph of Raja Ravi
In a courtroom cocky like I’m Gotti
It’s over half a milion bodies in Makati
I puff on Afghan like Shah Durrani
The bullets in the armory look like a hot tamale

I’m ridin’ in a bucket with the roman candles
Lookin’ for your favorite rapper, rockin’ open sandles
Roll the window down I’m throwing pólvora
Now your mami stressed, screamin’ out «Ojalá»
Squeezing in your mouth no Orajel, send you all to hell
Shit still on a scale ’cause my mixtape doin’ sorta well
I can still win a Cy Young the moment the pie come
Try some, you’ll be Harlem shakin’ ’til your mind numb
Verses crack ounces of piff, I got all kind of dope
If I get low fiends lickin’ the baggy like an envelope
Labels ain’t cutting a check, so I cop sarin gas
Garfield Thanksgiving Day Parade’s how I’m airin’ cats
Wear a mask in October and every other holiday
Stock your face if I heard that he chopping base and got the papes
Run upon you, I already told you my blood is Goya
This spic take enough work to terrify a Trump supporter
Whoa

I stack money hand over head
Ask about the god, I’m the man in the
I’m hotter then Louisiana Hot Sauce
Take you hostage, ain’t no bridges where you getting dropped off
Uh, I’m rockin’ furs for the winter
Uh, as I emerge from this printer
I grab the mic and turn MCs to dinner
Walk up on you and shred you like Master Splinter
I’m buying guns like the military
Armor piercing rounds put you in the cemetery
I like the bread but I got more rolls
Reading [?] books just to help me through this cold world
I walk around with the angel of death
Make you pay me with money and make you pay me respect
Ain’t no funny business, have you smiling by the neck
Never leave the fort without throwing on the TEC

Look, dry snitching is a lonely disease
This is shells of money homie, macaroni and cheese
This is luxury, we eating Avalonian peas
Dumb muhfucka, get some [?] and read
Listen home is you ridin’ or what?
He talking to ops, homie, he be trying his luck
Y’all ain’t getting’ nothin’ B, I’m not providing nathan’
I greet my brother peacefully it’s «As-salāmu ʿalaykum»
Turn this muhfucka to a horror scene
The periquito yellow B, it look like it’s a quarantine
I’m all about my motherfuckin’ spinach, chicken florentine
Doctrine of divine illumination, Santo Augustine
The gravedigger gonna teach you how to move the dirt
And jefe gon’ have to teach you how to move the work
This .40 praying homie and she dying to pop
Momma told me I should strike while the iron is hot
Battyman!