Baba Brinkman - Pardoner lyrics

Published

0 197 0

Baba Brinkman - Pardoner lyrics

Greed is the root of all evil In the days… Before violence was senseless and counterproductive There were three young friends, who were not to be f**ed with Inner city thugs, what? Rough riders! Vancouver-after-losing-the-Stanley-Cup rioters Thriving on chaos, anarchistic Hedonistic, auto-cannibalistic Like a wolf lickin' a blade stuck in the ice Thinkin' it's gettin' a taste, life blood slippin' away I'm talkin' Bad Boys, throwin' dice in the ghetto Drinkin' liquor like it was a sacrifice to the devil Dancin', gamblin', gettin' money illegally Through nothin' but extortion and thievery I mean, these guys were bad-a**es; women would bat lashes At ‘em, but mostly only for cash transactions Yeah, that happens; you can hate it or love it But if you hate it then you're probably not acquainted with thuggin' I'm not sayin' it's right; I'm just sayin' it's real If you're chasin' a thrill, it's probably makin' you feel Good, like takin' a pill, and these guys were thrill-seekin' Just three friends gettin' ill every weekend Now I know what you're thinking! Typical gangster rappers But these guys were Belgians, from medieval Flanders Think Boyz in the Hood; think Menace to Society Just, from the Middle Ages, of the Flemish variety That's a human universal, groups of aggressive men We get it from Adam and Eve, from original sin That's why people have these appetites, and that's why Christ Had to be sacrificed, because of Adam's apple bites Tragic, right? Jesus' body torn to pieces Just ‘cause Adam and Eve were so naughty Kanye: Jesus walks with me! But too much preaching will leave you actively snoring So I'll keep things moving and we'll go back to the story It starts at a tavern one morning, where those three thugs Were still havin' a stab at a party, three sheets drunk I mean, decent people were workin'; they're still out drinkin' Outside they heard the sound of a church bell ringing And saw a hearse bringin' a fresh corpse for a funeral The bartender saw it too, and that's when the news broke “It's someone you know!” The bartender told them “It must have been a bad batch of somethin' someone sold him ‘Cause yesterday he was here, just like, havin' a beer And d**h took him while he sat in his chair, f**in' weird! I guess d**h is the only unbeatable enemy So we all better be ready to meet him eventually” The main thug took a swill of a bottle, full of bravado And went all Robert Rodriguez, Desperado Like, “That's disrespect! I'm sick of d**h! You rock a bulletproof vest, sh**, he'll get you for cigarettes! I'm frickin' vexed! You say I'll never defeat him? I say let's go find him – f** it – I'm ready to meet him! The violence in me, reflect the violence that surrounds me So I say if d**h wants beef, he found beef!” Biggie: I'd rather go toe to toe with all of y'all Runnin' ain't in my protocol I guess he thought “d**h” was a person, silly thug People get some funny ideas when they're really drunk The other two guys were like, “An eye for an eye We in this together, son, your beef is mine!” And that was it, three drunk angry men Stumbled out the door, lookin' to capture d**h But they didn't get far; they met this old guy in the forest Who looked like he was reppin' the dark side of the force On the d**h star, I mean bags under his bloodshot eyes Like Charlie Sheen after hittin' the meth hard Cracked skin like leather, frail and decrepit His whole body wrapped in dirty rags like a leper The old man waved and said, “Hey, what's the word? You guys look kinda lost – can I help you get somewhere?” The main thug answered back, like: “Don't touch me! You're covered in crusty scabs! It's disgusting! I think you'd better tell us how you're even still alive” And the old man replied “Hey, I'm ready to die I've been knockin' on heaven's door since I was seventy-five I guess d**h just isn't ready to let me inside!” That's when the second thug stepped in like “Shut up! d**h is your friend and you're tryin' to protect him from us! I can smell a set-up, so tell us where he is! Either you're with us or you're with the terrorist!” The old man laughed, like: “What? You're lookin' for d**h? Heh heh, well then that's what you'll get d**h is right over there, really, go see I just left him like two minutes ago, under that oak tree” The thugs ran full speed, and when they arrive At the tree, they just stared, with bulging eyes d**h wasn't there, just a bag full of money Stacks of fifties and hundreds, and handfuls of twenties Suddenly lookin' for d**h was forgotten The main thug started schemin' and plottin' and slick talkin' He said, “Listen, I'm a clever man, aight? I hatch plots And I can tell you, this much money attracts cops We need to get it back to a stash spot, you feelin' me? But transporting this, by day? Liability! So let's do this right y'all – we wait for nightfall And then we bring it home, and split it up with the lights off After that we can spend it, but for now we just chill So we need some booze, right? We got hours to k** Let's draw straws, two of us can stand guard And we'll send the third man off to get a bottle of cab sauv!” The plan sounded damn suave, the youngest Pulled the bad straw and ran off, and as soon as he was gone The main thug went on, like: “Aight, listen up I'm about to get you paid – what would you say If I told you we could split this up two ways Are you game?” The second thug said “Okay But hold up, wait; what about our friend? What are we supposed to tell him? Know what I'm sayin'?” “We don't say nothin,'” said the first, “we play rough and Straight rush him and stick a knife in his side – I ain't bluffin' If we can bring him down, and then we'll be kingpins And never have to think about income again.” The second thug shrugged, like: “An eye for an eye We in this together, son, your beef is mine.” While in the meantime, the youngest was walkin' back Thinkin' “God damn, I want all that cash If I split it with those chumps, all I get is a third of it Nah, I'm gonna murder those two f**in' invertebrates This isn't a game; this is a blood sport!” So first he hit the liquor store, then he hit the d**tore And told the pharmacist, “I got some rats in my basement I need some poison so I can set some traps and waste ‘em!” And pretty soon, he was walking back to the money tree With three bottles of wine, two poisoned and one clean And what happened next? Exactly what I said His two back-stabbing friends stabbed him to d**h Without a shred of remorse; the main thug said “Ay-yo, let's have a quick drink before we get rid of the corpse!” And he grabbed a bottle, and he took a long swallow And he pa**ed it over to the second thug to follow And it was all over, they went from boastin' and braggin' To drinkin' rat poison co*ktails, chokin' and gaggin' And no one was left standing – they all died Triple homicide, like a Biggie Smalls rhyme Three friends, lookin' for d**h, headstrong Murder one another for cash, dead wrong Get rich or die trying – ask 50, he knows Like several different plot-lines of Quentin Tarantino's Get the c-notes, the G's, yo, the Benjamins That street ethos you get from medieval Belgians See, people don't change, you're all corrupted Fallen, that's why y'all need spiritual sustenance Guidance, you know, like the kind I provide A ticket to heaven for $9.95 You like s** and violence? Just buy my record It provides the whole essence of the bible's message Just like Kanye West, Jesus Walks with him That's a multi-platinum gangster gospel record! See, you feed your soul and your bank balance replenishes So open your wallets up for heaven's representatives! That's why I wrote this rap, to help you get your soul back In return for cold cash, so don't hold back Don't even hold back one cent That's the only way to avoid becoming part of the “one percent” Look, I know you're lost, and all you want is redemption Well you can have it, for a small cost By accepting a pardoner's blessing So step forward Money ready, and accept the blessing God told me it's my destiny to be rich Just like pastor Rick Warren Or like Deepak Chopra Or like that chick who wrote The Secret Look, you're takin' a risk either way Either you risk a few dollars Or you risk your soul You can't afford to risk your soul Just ask Pascal So hand your money over To me