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Vinnie PazVinnie Paz 

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Vinnie Paz

Vincenzo Luvineri (born October 5, 1977), better known as Vinnie Paz (formerly known as Ikon the Verbal Hologram), is an Italian-American rapper and the lyricist behind the Philadelphia underground hip hop group Jedi Mind Tricks. He is also the frontman of the hip hop supergroup Army of the Pharaohs. more »

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Yeah, 1 2 yo Oh No
This shit crazy pop look, 1 2
Aiight, look yeah

Lick shots like they would do with the fever
Stab 'em dead or a Pompeii, Julius Caesar
Knife work nice
Show you what to do with a cleaver
Son munafiqun, he a truthful deceiver
Supplication on the plains of Arafat
Puerto Ricans everywhere
They talk to me in Arawak
Money always ass back
And I'ma pull the barrel back
Knowing damn well he couldn't see
Me like a cataract
Where the organ grinder partner
Tell me where the Tommy at
And riddle him with bullets in him
Move him like an army brat
Anarchist and Marxist
You listening to Commie rap
Self-proclaimed God so the f*ck
If I'ma honor that this rat tried to get me
Book like a librarian
My shot unorthodox like Shawn Marion
Powers of pain, Animal Hawk and barbarian
You beaten by the fist of
God so Paul bury 'em

One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready
To go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll
Clear the fuckin' floor

I told y'all not to f*ck with me
Kidnaps takin' the kids like full custody
Every rhyme like my first, I spit hungrily
Y'all don't know cheese and
Wine out in Tuscany
Y'all think having a rack is called luxury
All bark and no bite, you not touching me
It's too dark for you
The wind is too blustering
I don't like cops or opps in my company
The trap boys still cookin' the brick
And it's raw so it look
Like they cookin' the grit
If I counted every bottle that
I took to the dick i'd lose count pa
I was in a room full of shit
You cupcaked out
Still bitchin' 'bout a jawn
End-game talkin' 'bout a bishop
Verse a pawn you dead goin' to sleep
Listenin' to birds chirpin'
The type of asshole to be
Talkin' in third person

One gun, two gun, three gun, four
It ain't an adversary that's ready
To go to war
One gun, two gun, three gun, four
A hundred round drum and it'll
Clear the fuckin' floor

Yeah, yeah pack Pistol Pazzy and all that
The Sicilian Shooter y'nam sayin'?
Philly in this mahfucker, yeah
That's the law

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