Lyrics Blood on my hands Vinnie Paz

Blood on my hands

I don't really like to hear the squealing animals in the cemeteries, when they do their rituals, but they give me free vodka

Ya'll ain't about nothin', I'm bustin a hundred rounds at you
I'm Pack Pistol Pazzy, I'm poppin like .40 rounds at you
This bulldog barks and it mean that I'm sickin' hounds at you
He puff a pound or a two, Pazienza just insurmountable
The Goma-2 roll on the substance wasn't compoundable
It's bodies everywhere and they try to hold me accountable
The burberry bag is boujee and booty bountiful
The bankroll blickie, the name's ain't even pronounceable
It ain't an ounce of you that can fathom haven't abandoned you
The weaponry is wonder it's numbers ain't even calculable
I stomp you out and pull the Beretta, money, it's marvelous
The gladiator war, fight with Gannicus since it's Spartacus
The seventy disciples of the Judaizers is the Barnabas
A reconstruction of the Acropolis Pagus pardon us
The deeper the abyss is the deeper into the Tartaros
The AK diesel the drum is a hippopotamus

He a dead man walking, that's a body
Get his hand pop talking, that's a body
This a hundred round drum, that's a body
Where we from that's a slum, that's a body
He a dead man walking, that's a body
Get his hand pop talking, that's a body
This a hundred round drum, that's a body
Where we from that's a slum, that's a body (ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta)

Yeah, y'all still about nothing, I'm choppin you with a tomahawk
Allah hates the cowards, you do a lot of vagina talk
It's as-salamu alaykum, I greet him with lots of guys to talk
Headshot medulla oblongata on a puzzle walk
I caught too many homies, now it's time for me to find a morgue
Go here and rhyme it, dog, it's another vagina monologue
I'll take you to a digital death, the place with no analog
I have your bones shaken, I break 'em like marijuana laws
There ain't no other boss that's as ill as me, son, it's lunacy
The leftist ideology is killin' the black community
You need a couple bodies, just give me the opportunity
You milli mild muhfuckers is making buffoonery
It ain't no unity, ain't no talking it out, it's hammer time
I'm moving, B, but I don't be talking, I'm like a pantomime
And I don't think that being a pussy should be romanticized
I roll with motherfuckers that's diddy-boppin and vandalized

He a dead man walking, that's a body
Get his hand pop talking, that's a body
This a hundred round drum, that's a body
Where we from that's a slum, that's a body
He a dead man walking, that's a body
Get his hand pop talking, that's a body
This a hundred round drum, that's a body
Where we from that's a slum, that's a body (ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta)