[Skit]
This is a fifteen year old boy who also wanted to be special. Before hanging himself, he wrote on his body, "I'm coming home, Master" and "Satan Lives! 666" The book was the Satanic Bible by Anton LaVey. After Scott Waterhouse's trial, both the prosecution and the victim's father claimed that although the Satanic Bible did not condone violence, Waterhouse had interpreted it that way:
The book made you feel, "Do what you wanna do", and the heck what everybody else morŠµ or less, and I believŠµ that that had a lot to do with it
It tries to make itself innocuous, but, if you actually read it and believe it to the letter, it's a very dangerous manifesto
[Intro: Vinnie Paz]
Yeah, one-two!
Yeah, look!
[Verse 1: Vinnie Paz]
They got my akhi with the Ziploc
That's what happen when them D boys move to whip-wop
It's a bullshit blicky, mine greater in size
A killer always a killer, B, it stay in his eyes
It's three of y'all, it's one of me, I'll play with the odds
Sometime you pray backwards, B, and Satan replies
This is something you can't study
You know you got bread when you eatin' your steak bloody
I see an opp and it's off with they heads
And y'all gon' see the kid wildin' like I'm off of my meds
You like Lefty talking to Donnie, you talking to feds
I'm a Joe Spinell dirtbag walking the edge
The plug talkin' white, he ain't speakin' of Caucasian
It's a pale blue dot and I'm meeting with Carl Sagan
I've got hitters and that mean that you get murked by whoever
Just because we workin' don't mean that we workin' together
[Verse 2: ILL BILL]
Yo! Trump-faced Baphomet, mask of death
Blood stained pump sprays at your head
Guns blaze at your friend
Green bean pop the dude, extreme like Mountain Dew
Or Hitler experiments, German bitches, Belgian Pis
Burners with extended clips, embalming fluid Newports
With the extended drippety drip, it's litty lit
In the palace that's draped with Basquiat
An ambiance, beyond the dons and the Gods of the mafia!
[Verse 3: Goretex]
The dealer and pimp, butcher like DJ Polo, burn the ozone
Still activist with that Howie homegrown
I make bail, my face on the screen like Al Israel
Beverly Hills Ninja sleeves on scales
Hail the kitchen stove, got an acetone with the Tuddy stare
Refrigerator Perry holds weight, fuck it, I came prepared
Like Faces of Death on VHS, cut and drain you like Blessed Death
Seven shots cut through your chest
[Verse 4: ILL BILL]
Blizzards of bullets, lizards with mullets
They've gotten bold lately, they been shapeshiftin' in public
Schwammy in the granny bag, where my shooters at?
My day ones never have to tell 'em who to clap
Medusa dinner plate, truck like the Bat Signal
Black pistols blast hit you, hollow missiles crash into
Last thing you see, Travis Bickle Mohawk
Blast the pistol, blow your dome off
Lit like a blowtorch
[Verse 5: Goretex]
Zoot suits, Ace Frehley boots, Pagan truth
80 shots filet your moon roof, it's LaVey on juice
We will die kings, microdots under my eyelids
Burn Thai stick, Pyrex fridge, oven side dish
Pushing bundles on Uber drivers
Two for fives, mandatory suicide
Uncle Howie shoot out on joyrides
Goons night out after drive-by's
We go for strudel like wise guys
Piano wire straight through the eyes