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letra de genocide - the reavers

the reavers (ft. spiga, billy woods, and kong) – “genocide”
[emcee(s): spiga, billy woods, and kong]
[producer(s): bond (aka 007)]

[intro: sample from [?]]
[?]: bombs and ammunition are cheap and plentiful in africa. each rifle costs less than 20 u.s. dollars

[verse 1: spiga]
deeper than clever. clever’s about ten-shot old
old is closer to dead and dead’s cold. touch your soul
grab a bow. weak stomachs toss cookies in fluid
you need to eat before abusing your music. don’t feel stupid
get into it, get your hands dirty, work for a minute
earn a blessing, wrap it away for someone to give it. don’t get it twisted
take whatever you can get from me. yeah. eat good and take
the scr-ps and double-up off a twenty. baby, don’t tempt me
if it’s ugly. trust me, you’ve never seen a spider get thirsty
slow deaths gurgling blood an act of mercy, and if you curse me
then it just got worse. now i got you biting your skin
a little ketchup, it seems your substance is thin. get your weight up
i’ve stayed up for two years, been hustling for sleep. now i’m
seeing visions where you still ask me for deep. give me peace
at least a day in the life of one looking for all
drunken echoes in the dark loiter the halls, paint the walls
i’m out

[verse 2: billy woods]
silverback weight
first metal i ever held was in fn
fal: 7.26 millimeter sh-lls
1968
congo river base and white man agitative
but natives patient for interrogation
car battery attached to his anatomy, open to
suggestion. lessons from acadies to extract
confessions. prolong the torture and scorch you
like homemade firewater. gorillas with
grenades by the border. sign reads: out of order
posted on your residence. the premise is
war is the pestilence, death is for the penitent
three hors-m-n riding by night
shying from light, sliding out of sight
famine on the way. from her, you can’t hide
lord of the flies, planet of the primates
smoke in the sky [?]
hung us like drapes. roadblock—no escape
ak poking through the driver’s side window
eyes shut open off african, tie-endo
barrel nuzzling you, cousin. christian or muslim?
humble or thugging? bury ‘em all
in the same trench. clutching culottes, soaked
handkerchiefs, gagging off the stench

[verse 3: kong]
my mental
crush the globe with a touch. earlobes
explode from flow. explodes for dough, for show
for sure, ho, give me the hatchet. where the bat sh-t?
hope you dumb n-ggas don’t catch it. a basket of biscuits
squeezed inside his caskets. shorty’s son
for basket. then you roll on the dirty mattress
they call me backwards ‘cause i robbed a b-tch and robbed
this b-tch and f-cked, then asked for s-x afterwards
kong is the beast in the dirt. choose your sides
stand up if you’re living by the curb
remember when i was young. used to sleep. it’s sick. lick
and sip it quick ‘cause daddy’s c-mming. you get the picture? things
switched up: kong got the hiccups, pulled the gun
stick up [?]
but now my vision is clearer. ready to stop
swearing and aiming inside of the mirrors. hear it
smoking? smoking, tired, my mental envisioning
dark [?] heartless. i’m back to the liquor starting
f-ck wannabe pottery gauntlets
who started recording the cartridges of women talking
your broad, your b-tch like to deepthroat the sausage
she like to put her face in the dirt like a ostrich. regardless
kong is monster. fist clenched on my chest
carry you from banger. anger management swinging
beside my chest cavity. anything i bang on
is caved in. my honor’s ‘graved in with the only thing
that you saved from slavement. kong. you n-ggas better
be patient. let’s get it raking for real

- the reavers

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