Lyrics Oath of the Goat - Ill Bill, Vinnie Paz

Oath of the Goat

Homie you can call me hot furnace
Ill Bill AKA Nocturnus
Walk up to you at point blank range and pop burners
Walk away like nothing happened
Walking while I’m clapping, laughing while I’m talking
Awesome with the Magnum, spasm with the four-fifth, caution with the asthma
The OG kush we smoke will send your lungs into a spasm
Live fast and we die young, a bunch of live guns
Get your mind flung through space and time
When we rhyme run for the hills Iron Maiden, die in pain
Have your entire society rioting
Flipping over cars violently then fiery
The double gun salute, a hundred guns asking, «Who the fuck is you?»
We the top tier, you could get your head popped here
Stop there, we could earth you and nobody would care and that’s deeper than an
unborn
In the womb of a prawn at the bottom of the Indian Ocean in the calm
What’s the worst thing you can imagine?
And they’ll tell me «a shotgun suicide.
«I'll say, okay yeah shotgun suicide.
A person hadn’t been found for six weeks.
They lived in filth, they were a junkie, they had an animal that was eating
them for six weeks.
That animal died and then we get called
I’ll go anywhere I want, I don’t have clearance
Carnivore, don’t eat anything that don’t have parents
I’m jihadist, I go to war with God-fearers
Elohim, Rosicrucians, and cross-bearers
I don’t sign up for war, it’s no enlistment papers
My hands fast, they pyrotechnic initiators
I don’t have any close friends, just distant neighbours
Cause I don’t listen to Christians or crucifixion wavers
I don’t listen to anyone that ain’t been to war
I don’t listen to anyone if they ain’t been poor
I ain’t ever going back to where I been before
And I ain’t going fucking back to lose, win, or draw
Tell your whole fucking fam Vinnie P a problem
And my four-fifth sick, it got a sneezing problem
It’s the Heavy Metal Kings, you know that we a problem
And y’all ain’t saying shit, now y’all have a breathing problem, yeah
Certainly no one wants to be overly-dramatic about it or glorify it,
but to be a gang member is to be a soldier in a guerrilla war.
For those who
fight it the war no less dangerous and bloody than World War 2 or Vietnam.
There is no one enemy but several, and these enemies are not in some distant
land or far-away stronghold.
They’re across the street, down the road,
up the hill, around the corner, all around.
There are?
battles?
combat with large forces darkened schoolyards, parks.
There’s night-time
bushwhacking and ambushing.
The enemy streaking by in cars guns blazing or
taking careful aim from some secure vantage point or leaping from hiding places
with knives, boards, or shanks