Lyrics Assassins - Pharoahe Monch, Jean Grae, Royce 5'9

Assassins

In 2013, the World Government placed sanctions against freethinking individuals
in order to force people to adhere to one way of life
An independently funded organization called poh pih evas nac ew dna eerf rof
cisum gnidaolnwod gnikcuf pots hired one hundred assassins to infiltrate the
headquarters where files were kept
Of these one hundred, ninety-seven were captured, tortured, and executed
Only three remained
The third of which was said to own an arsenal that would rival an entire city’s
police force
The second was rumored was to be able to move throughout space and time And the
first… (One)
Fasten your seat belts for the last of the three assassins on earth
The first flashing her purse where a heat stealth
They call me Jean McCoy, beast in me employed, deploy deplorable
Through audible destructive actions, attractive decoy
Then pass it to Troy after I’m passing your life over
He’ll deliver it through river Styx, Hades, I’m cold, deliberate, ladies
My foes limited, pray me some praise (whispering)
Stay on your toes villains, it’s Grae and your day’s whittling
Blistering lines packed in six, stick to spine
Wracked with a sick mind, trapped in thick bitch frame
Drug you with strychnine in nine drinks, you drunk, and it’s my
Kidney, you dickbrain, I’m just itching to slit veins
Stitch lines, Rick James, fuck yo lives, sip brains, bitches
Niggas, kick rocks, or kick rhymes, it’s to the pain
Liquor riddled liver, sieve in it, sipping it like Capri Sun
Ignint as ever, she’s clever, equivalent be none
A ball breaker, call fakers out with passion
You got the gall, bastard, to brawl with the broad brashest
The ball’s in your court, pass it — but warning — fall faster
Than asses with age slack on the back of a Kardashian
The walls crash in, you all on the floor gasping
The gas pour in the corridor, racking your jaws, blacking out
Catch Grae backing out the back door, cackling
Still make it back to the bar for last call
(Two)
They ask me why I’m highly regarded, this God body probably
Monch is a mixture of Marcus Garvey, Miles Davis and Bob Marley (radical)
Never skateboard slang like gnarly, more like:
Weed in my whip on the way to get top like Charles Barkley
You are hardly prepared to spar with a marksman — spark me
I’m Gambit with the ace of spades, a master in archery
Vehicular, particularly the vernacular
Specifically the fit so when I spit it it’s spectacular and accurate
When I attack I’m more legend than Acura
Flip Bloomberg the bird, bitch, more blood than Blacula
More Crip than cryptic scriptures encrypted with backwards vernacular
Plus sicker than most like Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction
I am that nigga for real
Per capita smacking the next rapper that uses the term swag or thereafter
These three assassins get to ass whipping
Prepare to for a professional ass that can
Shape shift, spit, hollow tip clips mainly
Sick, ain’t he — mind control
Make you shoot your best friend in the face, Dick Cheney
My life is like a documentary film depicted in black and white
Flick’s grainy (geronimo)
I’m on Guantanamo Bay taking pics in a Captain Morgan pose
With my left foot on a pile of detainees screaming
«We are renegades!»
Fuck you.
Pay me
Two.
Where the fuck… no.
Where the fuck is Three?
I know.
I know.
He’s gonna be here.
He gave me his word, trust me
Yeah, but he does this every time
He’s gonna be here, trust me
He’s gonna ruin this mission for us again
Look, here he comes now
I be riding round with a stripper-slash-burlesque model
I make it pop like my cock in a Durex condom
I’m a opposite artist I find irony in going
From being like a stone in the grass to rocking the Garden
The same irony as going from fully automatic in the backyard
To having the whole machine behind me
I take my Australian bitches and show her some other thangs
She know my stroke is deadly so she gave me bloody brain
Don’t try to get familiar, if I don’t feel you in person
I’ll flip the script and I’ll accidentally kill you on purpose
The bad is what I’m flailing, I got so many furs
PETA gonna paint splash me when they see me no matter what I’m wearing
Your bitch about to open up, sniff some blow off of my dick
Guess you could say she on my coconuts
I’m on point like Chris Paul
You on point like an Atlantic City hooker that licks balls
I’m about to flip in this bitch like Dominique Dawes
And shut shit down like a car when it stalls
I am the deadliest rapper, you claiming that you flow like water
But really y’all niggas Evian backwards
Marshall hit the jackpot with this flow that I got
I know when I’m hot, it’s my show to stop, holding my crotch
My whip cleaner than Amish men in honest ends
Two dimes with me like I’m a twin cause I’m a ten
Okay… I’m in