The Punisher - Eric B. & Rakim

Kill him again!

Try to identufy the man in front of ya

But it ain't the role, the gear, or the money, the

Swift intellectionist with pleny, ya

Bite, if its dark Ill spark every one of ya,

I throw a mic in the crowd, its a question,

I got the answer..it includes directions:

Go manufacture a mask, show me after

A glass of a master that has to make musical massacre...

Attack your wack till its handicapped,

Youll never hold the mic again, try to hand it back,

Cuz every rapper that comes, I cut off his thumbs,

Put a record to his neck, if he swallows it hums!

Slice from ear to ear-so till can hear better,

Before he bleed to death, here, hear every letter!

And you can see quick and thick the blood can get

If you try to change the style or the subject;

As I get deep in the rhyme I'm becomin a

Emcee murderer...before I'm done, I'm a

Prepare the chamber, the tortures comin up,

Trip through the mind, at the end youll find its

The punisher....

Kill em again!

I hold the mic as hostage, emcees are ransome,

Rhymesll punish em cuz they don't undertsand em,

I heat up his brain, then explain then I hand him

A redhot microphone...thats how I planned em,

Rhymes call information(? ), unite midnught(? ),

Like a platoon putting bullet wounds in the mic,

If ya curse me, it ain't no mercy,

Give him a autopsy, killed by a verse of me,

I took a kid and cut off his eyelid,

Kill him slow so he could see what I did,

And if he don't understand what I said,

I'm pushing his eyeballs way to the back of his head

So he can see what hes getting into,

A part of the mind that he never been through,

A journey is coming cuz ya getting sent to

A place harder to find but its all in the mental,

I ran a brainscan to locate his game plan,

When I'm through with his brain he ain't the same, man!

Did he lose his mind or lost in his mind,

But this ain't the lost and found because ya can't find

Your foundation; coasting, your mind is

Drifting, in slow motion..frozen,

Looks like another murder at the mardi gras, b!

Too late to send out a search party,

Once ya out of ya head then ya can't get back,

I give em a map, but he still get trapped, so

Prepare the chamber, the tortures coming up,

Trip through the mind, at the end youll find its the punisher....

Kill em again!

Dangerous rhymes (are) performed like surgery,

Cuts so deep youll be bleeding burgundy,

My intellect wrecks and disconnects your cerebral cortex,

Your cerebellum is next!

Your conscience becomes sub-conscious,

Soon your response is nonsense....

The last words are blurred...mumbled then slurred,

Then your verbs are no longer heard,

You get your lung fried so good you're tongue-tied,

He couldn't swing or hang so he hung till he died,

Reincarnate him...and kill him again...again and again...again and again...

I leave him in the mausoleum so you can see him,

I got a dead-mcing museum,

When I create em, I cremate em and complicate em,

You can't save em...theres no ultamatum,

Mics lay around full of ashes, with the victims name in slashes,

Got a long list and I'm a get every one of ya...

Beware of the punisher!

Then I'm a kill em again!

Wake em up...kill em again!