#restin in fuckin pieces

[roman-oh-no]

my beautiful wife who I love and cherish

[dragonnarrative-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Slasher Handler under the cut!

CW: wounds, blood, characters are probably in shock,

“Should I try to stop the bleeding? Gauze and pressure, right?” You grab the backpack and tear it open. There’s gauze, antiseptic gel, and bandage wraps. You also find a small bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Splash of alcohol first,” Simon says, closing his eyes. When you slap him, he glares up at you with one eye. “Oi.”

“Don’t fall asleep on me!”

“’M no’. Just restin’ m’eyes.”

“Not that either!” The way his accent is becoming more pronounced, and his words more slurred, sets your already galloping heart racing. You uncap the alcohol and tip it, not at all gently, over the wound. “Stay awake.”

“Bloody fuckin’ ‘ell,” Simon growls, followed by a pained wheeze. “Okay. Fuck. Gauze next, you’ll have to hold it down. Don’t have enough bandages and too much mud, besides.”

The first piece of gauze gets soaked with rain and blood immediately, so you open another couple of packages and press. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you tell him over his hissing. Tears finally start catching up to you. “Simon, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon.”

“’S fine,” he sighs. One big, muddy hand comes up to pat your shoulder. “Shouldn’a come at you from the left. Better t’ stay low and come at you from the right.”

“I still might have stabbed you,” you protest. “I shouldn’t have had that stupid knife out, I should have known better-”

“You couldn’a known.”

“I should have,” you insist, and the tears are falling even faster now. “I didn’t need to be playing with knives, I knew you were out here, that you’d start chasing me any moment.”

“’S part of the game,” Simon sighs with a lazy grin. “Weren’ supposed t’ stab me in the chest, but tha’s on me.”

“I wasn’t supposed to stab you at all, Simon,” you sob. “I never wanted…! I don’t…!” Simon’s eyes flutter closed again, and you feel your heart break. “Simon, please, stay awake. I’m sorry. Please, Simon. I don’t hate you, I’m sorry.”

[goddamnvegans]

I place blame on you still, place shame on you still Feel like you ain't shit, feel like you don't feel Confidence in yourself, breakin' on marble floors Watchin' anonymous strangers, tellin' me that I'm yours But you ain't shit, I'm convinced your tolerance nothin' special What can I blame you for? I can name several I fuckin' tell you fuckin' failure—you ain't no leader! I never liked you, forever despise you—I don't need ya! The world don't need ya, don't let them deceive ya Fuckin' hate you, I hope you embrace it, I swear—

No, you ain't shit, you say you love 'em, I know you don't mean it I know you irresponsible, selfish, in denial, can't help it Where was your presence? Where was your support that you pretend? Third surgery, they couldn't stop the bleeding for real Then he died, God himself will say, "You fuckin' failed," you ain't try

I know your secrets, nigga, mood swings is frequent I know depression is restin' on your heart for two reasons And if this bottle could talk gulping I cry myself to sleep, bitch, everything is your fault Faults breakin' to pieces, earthquakes on every weekend Because you shook as soon as you knew confinement was needed I know your secrets, don't let me tell 'em to the world About that shit you thinkin'

I'm fucked up, but I ain't as fucked up as you You just can't get right, I think your heart made of bullet proof Should've killed yo' ass long time ago You should've felt that black revolver blast a long time ago And if these mirrors could talk it'd say, "You gotta go" And if I told your secrets the world'll know money can't stop a suicidal weakness

u

[catinabag]

you the reason why mom and them leavin

you ain't shit, you say you love em I know you don't mean it

i know you irresponsible, selfish, in denial, can't help it

your trials and tribulations a burden, everyone felt it

everyone heard it, multiple shots, corners cryin out

you was deserted, where was your antennas again?

where was your presence? where was your support that you pretend?

you ain’t no brother, you ain’t no disciple, you ain’t no friend

a friend never leave for profit, or leave his best friend, little brother

you promised you’d watch him before they shot him

where was your antennas? on the road, bottles and bitches

you facetimed him one time, that's unforgiven

you even facetimed instead of a hospital visit

guess you thought he'd recover well

third surgery, they couldn't stop the bleeding for real

then he died, god himself will say, "You fuckin failed," you ain't try

i know your secrets, nigga, mood swings is frequent, nigga

i know depression is restin on your heart for two reasons, nigga

i know you and a couple block boys ain't been speakin', nigga

y'all damn near beefin, i see it and you're the reason, nigga

and if this bottle could talk

i cry myself to sleep, bitch, everything is your fault

faults breakin to pieces, earthquakes on every weekend

because you shook as soon as you knew confinement was needed

i know your secrets, don't let me tell em to the world about that shit you thinkin

i'm fucked up, but i ain't as fucked up as you

you just can't get right, i think your heart made of bullet proof

should've killed your ass long time ago

you should've felt that black revolver blast a long time ago

and if these mirrors could talk it'd say, "you gotta go"

and if i told your secrets the world'll know money can't stop a suicidal weakness

[db-juna]

"Are you the reason why mom and them leavin' No, you ain't shit, you say you love 'em, I know you don't mean it I know you irresponsible, selfish, in denial, can't help it Your trials and tribulations a burden, everyone felt it Everyone heard it, multiple shots, corners cryin' out You was deserted, where was your antennas again? Where was your presence? Where was your support that you pretend? You ain’t no brother, you ain’t no disciple, you ain’t no friend A friend never leave Compton for profit, or leave his best friend, little brother You promised you’d watch him before they shot him Where was your antennas? On the road, bottles and bitches You FaceTimed him one time, that's unforgiven You even FaceTimed instead of a hospital visit Guess you thought he'd recover well Third surgery, they couldn't stop the bleeding for real Then he died, God himself will say, "You fuckin' failed," you ain't try.. I know your secrets, nigga, mood swings is frequent, nigga I know depression is restin' on your heart for two reasons, nigga I know you and a couple block boys ain't been speakin', nigga Y'all damn near beefin', I see it and you're the reason, nigga And if this bottle could talk ----- I cry myself to sleep, bitch, everything is your fault Faults breakin' to pieces, earthquakes on every weekend Because you shook as soon as you knew confinement was needed I know your secrets, don't let me tell 'em to the world About that shit you thinkin' and that time you -----, I'm 'bout to hurl I'm fucked up, but I ain't as fucked up as you You just can't get right, I think your heart made of bullet proof Should've killed yo' ass long time ago You should've felt that black revolver blast a long time ago And if these mirrors could talk it'd say, "You gotta go" And if I told your secrets the world'll know money can't stop a suicidal weakness" https://www.instagram.com/p/CK4-9XNh8e_pOrW5XsQt7jMNWF2s7ubSQH9QNU0/?igshid=d2uf4mwgu7f7

[crowleplays]

Lilystar's claws dug into the rusted metal, breaking off a piece of it and sending it clattering down to the cats below. Her fur bristled and she exhaled her next words with a hiss, whipping around to stare directly at Shadestar. "If yer deputy be innocent, then let this war end and bring me the fuckin' pelt of the stinkin' bilge rat that killed me clanmate, ye pompous bastard!"

Shadestar raised an eyebrow and still held on to his smile. Well won't you look at that. "Please Lilystar, the medicine cats have received the message of a darkness coming and I don't want to deal with what ever that darkness is, rogues, and Bayclan at the same time. I'll say it again that Runningwolf is innocent and I have no clue who killed your clanmate so I can't exactly bring you a pelt, but I do have a piece of their fur." He moved the fur that was gathered from the crime scene towards her.

The announcement of the darkness sparked a sudden raucous reaction from the Clans. None of the 3 leaders had told their warriors of this warning. Cats started to shout."Darkness?!" "StarClan, are we doomed?" "What is he talking about, what darkness?!" "We're going to die!"That was enough for Cedarstar. "This Gathering is OVER!" he boomed. "PineClan, we are going home, now!"

She shoved her face right up against the Ridgeclan leader's, fangs bared in a snarl. "Me own clan's healers bring word of darkness, so perhaps ye should feckin' do yer damn part to keep the clans safe and chip in, 'stead of restin' on yer laurels an' gettin fat on rabbits--" She stared down at the clump of silver fur, but before she could speak Cedarstar's voice rang through the vessel like a temple bell. 

"Aye, Bayclan, we sail out, now." With that, she snatched the silver tuft in her jaws and leapt down, heading straight for the exit.

I got to play my leader getting so fucking pissed she went full sailor it was a Good Fucking Time

[iofferwith-blog]

Raekwon Only Built 4 Cuban Linx

New Post has been published on http://iofferwith.xyz/raekwon-only-built-4-cuban-linx/

Raekwon Only Built 4 Cuban Linx

Raekwon 첫 솔로앨범 Only Built 4 Cuban Linx (1995년)

  Let’s kick that old school shit

  힙합클래식 중 손꼽히는 앨범

랩 가사야 릴웨인의 영향으로 많이많이 발전 했지만

그래도 힙합은 옛날 90년대 음악을 제일 좋아합니다

요즘 힙합은 개인적으로 잘 안듣습니다

편식이 심해진거 같아요

  뭐 어쨌든 힙합하면 떠오르는 이미지가 게토생활의 힘든 삶 정도가 아닐까

그런 느낌을 가장 제대로 살린게 골든에라 90년대 힙합 이란 말이지요

그래서 아직까지도 그때의 향수를 가지고 있고 느끼고 즐기고 있습니다

오랫만에 올드한 느낌의 뮤직비디오 즐겨 보세요

            Raekwon – Ice Cream

  [Intro: Method Man (Johnny Blaze)]

Hey mom, can I have some money? The ice cream man is coming!

[Chorus:]

Watch these rap niggaz get all up in your guts French-vanilla, butter-pecan, chocolate-deluxe Even caramel sundaes is gettin touched And scooped in my ice cream truck, Wu tears it up (The ice cream man is coming!)

[Verse One: Ghostface Killer (Tony Starks)]

Yo honey-dips, summertime, fine Jheri drippin See you on Pickens with a bunch of chickens how you’re clickin I catch shootin strong notes as we got close She rocked rope, honey throat smellin like Impulse Your whole shell baby’s wicked like Nimrod Caught me like a fresh-water scrod, or may I not be God Attitude is very rude Boo, crabby like seafood It turns me on like Vassey and Lahrule They call me Starky Love-hun, check the strategy By any means, Shirley Temple cross was done by Billie Jean’s Black Misses America, your name is Erica, right true Lazy eyeball, small piece, six shoe Caramel complexion, breath smellin like cinnamon Excuse me hon, the Don mean no harm, turn around again God damn, backyard’s bangin like a Benz-y If I was jiggy, you’d be spotted like Spudz McKenzie I’m high powered put Adina Howard to sleep Yo pardon, that bitch been on my mind all week, but uhh Back to you Maybelline Queen let’s make a team You can have anything in this world except CREAM So whatchu wanna do? Whatchu wanna do? Let’s go ahead and walk these dogs and represent Wu

[Chorus]

[Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef (Lou Diamonds)]

Shaolin’s finest, whattup Boo, peace your highness Yo I’m loungin, big dick style, y’all niggaz is the flyest Moves you’re making too fly jewels are shaking not a rape patient, you’re looking good fly colored Asian Ghettoes, them is your hometown, we can go the whole round After that, I’m shootin downtown I’m rockin hats and you wig is all intact Who’s that queen bee chick, eyes curly black Freaks be movin in fly sneaks Two finger rings and gold teeth, and ain’t afraid to hold heat So when I step in the square dear You better have CREAM to share, Ricans, ven aqui yeah

[Chorus]

[Verse Three: Cappachino]

Black chocolate girl wonder, shade brown like Thunder Politic til your deficit step, gimme your number Your sexy persuasive ta-ta’s and thighs Catch my eyes like highs I want your bodily surprise Double dime some time, Ice Cream you got me fallin out like a cripple, I love you like I love my dick size ooh baby I miss you, your sweet tender touches take pulls off the dutches, orgasm in my mindstate masterbate in your clutches, I want you for self like wealth, so play me closely Bitches paranoia for the sting, who want the most of me Only a hard dozen want to be callin me cousin Thirsty for my catalog, baby shoppin spree you’re lovin Call me if you want to get dug like the pockets I jizm like a giant break brooms out of their sockets

[Outro: Method Man]

Wu-Tang in the cut, for real niggaz what? It’s the after party and bitches want to fuck

[Chorus:]

Ice cold bitches melt down when my clutch and what they titties sucked, ice cream

Yeah, your guts

[Chorus: 3/4ths]

Ice cold bitches melt down when in the clutch They want they titties sucked, ice cream

One love to my chocolate deluxes, keep your nails done and your wigs tight, word up One love to my butter-pecan Ricans for calling me papi That’s for real One love to caramel sundaes, with the cherries on top Yeah And big up to my french vanillas Parlez vous, francais, mi amor, merci, oui oui, bon bons and all that good stuff That good stuff

    Criminology

[Intro: Raekwon (plus sample of Tony Montana having an argument)]

“I told you a long time ago you fuckin little monkey not to FUCK ME.” “Hey hey, who the FUCK you think you goin for huh??!” “Who the fuck you think I am your fuckin dough-boy?” “You wanna go to war?…. Wanna go to war, OK?”

Comin up on half a mil, we build Get real God, taking you on another one Son Uhh, Julio Igleasias Makin CREAM like that nigga

[Verse One: Ghostface Killah] Yo, first of all son, peep the arson Many brothers I be sparkin and bustin mad light inside the dark Call me dough snatcher, just the brother for the rapture I handglide, holdin on strong, hard to capture Extravagant, RZA bake the track and it’s militant Then I react, like a convict, and start killin shit It’s manifested, the Gods work like appliances Dealin in my cypher I revolve around sciences The 9th chamber, leave you trapped inside my hallway You try to flee but you got smoked up by the doorway (blaow! blaow! blaow!) No question, I send your ass back, right to the essence Your whole frame is smothered in dirt, now how you restin While I’ll be trapped by sounds, locked behind loops Throwin niggaz off airplanes cause +Cash Rules Everything Around Me+ black, as you can see Swallow this murder one verse like God Degree Then analyze my soundtrack for satisfaction You adapt like a flashback chain reaction

[Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef] Just a minute son… AK’s black bust back like seventy Macs I’m all that, street niggaz knowin my steez black Ron G, you know he coincide with me see Marvelous, Menace fo’ Society But anyway, let’s toast, champagne thoughts with Ghost I max the most shotguns through the nose Phonograph hip-hop put me on top ‘Lo wears, and Tommy Hil fly shit with a knot The witty unpredictable live shit, drive by shit Do or die shit, I’ll take your lie and shit And then you know, I’m runnin through the penal, foul Four-toothed child was wild The old lady snitched, but fuck it, you know it, one love kid No I’m not doin a bid Too much to get for what cause six niggaz got stuck, and the nigga chain was truck Yo fuck that, Criminology rap Speakers stay jet black floatin in the flyest Ac’ Nigga… bring it! Yeah..

[Outro: Raekwon] Much love go to New York City All my Tommy Hil’ ice rockin niggaz

      incarcerated scarfaces

  [Intro Two: Raekwon the Chef] Knock niggaz out the box all the time Bitches on my motherfuckin records Pah Big ones, yeah, big fuckers Straight up, fuck your whole team Yeah bust it Yo, yo, fly G.I. niggaz

[Chorus: Raekwon the Chef] Now yo yo, whattup yo, time is runnin out It’s for real though, let’s connect politic – ditto! We could trade places, get lifted in the staircases Word up, peace incarcerated scarfaces

[Verse One: Raekwon the Chef] Thug related style attract millions Fans, they understand my plan Who’s the kid up in the green Land? Me and the RZA connect, blow a fuse, you lose Half-ass crews get demolished and bruised Fake be frontin, hourglass heads niggaz be wantin Shuttin down your slot; time for pumpin Poisonous sting which thumps up and act chumps Raise a heavy generator But yo, guess who’s the black Trump? Dough be flowin by the hour’s Wu, we got the collars, scholars Word life, peace to power and my whole unit Word up! Quick to set it, don’t wet it Real niggaz lick shots, peace Connecticut

[Chorus]

[Verse Two: Raekwon the Chef] Chef’ll shine like marble, rhyme remarkable Real niggaz raise up, spend your money, argue But this time is for the uninvited Go head and rhyme to it, big nigga mics is gettin fired Morphine chicks be burnin like chlorine Niggaz recognize from here to Baltimore to Fort Greene But hold up, Moet be tastin like throw-up My mob roll up, dripped to death whips rolled up Ya never had no wins, slidin in these dens wit Timbs Wit Mac-10’s and broke friends Ya got guns, got guns too, what up son, do you wanna battle for cash and see who Sun too? I probably wax, tax, smack rap niggaz who fax niggaz lyrics is wack nigga Can’t stand unofficial, wet tissue, blank bustin Scud missles You rollin like Trump, you get your meat lumped For real, it’s just slang rap democracy Here’s the policy, slide off the ring, plus the Wallabees Check the status, soon to see me at Caesar’s Palace eatin salads We beatin mics and the keys to Dallas I move rhymes like retail, make sure shit sell From where we at to my man’s cell From staircase to stage, minimun wage But soon to get a article in RapPage But all I need is my house, my gat, my Ac Bank account fat – it’s goin’ down like that And pardon the French but let me speak Italian Black Stallion, dwellin on Shaolin That means the island of Staten And niggaz carry gats and mad police from Manhattan

[Chorus]

[Verse Three: Raekwon the Chef] I do this for barber shop niggaz in the Plaza Catchin asthma, Rae is stickin gun-flashers Well-dressed, skatin through the projects wit big ones Broke elevators, turn the lights out, stick one upstairs, swithc like a chameleon Hip Brazilians, pass the cash or leave your children Leave the buildin Niggaz, yo they be foldin’ like envelopes under pressure Like Lou Farigno on coke Yo, Africans denyin niggaz up in yellow cabs Musty like funk, wavin they arms, the Arabs Sit back, coolin like Kahlua’s on rocks On the crack spots, rubberband wrapped on my knots You bitches who fuck dreds on Sudafeds Pussy’s hurtin, they did it for a yard for the Feds Word up cousin, nigga, I seen it Like a 27-inch Zenith – believe it!

[Chorus]

[Outro] …politic ditto …get lifted in the staircases

    Heaven & Hell

   [Intro: Raekwon, Ghostface]

Yo what what, yo Exotic type shit Ninety-four, we must go to war fast With the pen and the pad God damn, shine like gold rims on Pathfinders Wu-Tang reclines, lamps, for the nine-squares kid Money clothes designer hoes and shows y’all

[Lyrics: Raekwon, Ghostface]

Yo, yo, wakin up about ten kid Jumpin in the shower, peace about to make moves and slide like greese What? I’m all about Tecs and checks and nuff respect you front I’m slammin you like the Lex So now I’m out in the ninety-five Rockin that real nigga don’t die Guess down Drawers Kani! But yo I’m makin a pit stop Go and buy a box of glocks, til he rolled up and yo Whattup Hobbes? Yo, remember that kid that we vicked He made a half of mil for real He brought about fo’ bricks Yo, so now we connect doors, meet me at the airport TELL GOLDEN ARMS MAINTAIN THE FORT Get in touch with that West coast Cali crab you stabbed And meet me at the bitch lab So word up kid, we slid like a fat four to twelve bid and shit Couldn’t even rest, I need the vic And when I slept, I dream G’s, Son I need some Keys roll self, call up Son I heard Pook and Tyriq caught a beef over some real shit A fake nigga faked and they killed his click Gimme a minute and I’m with it Yo niggaz done did it Rock your vest Keep your whip tinted So now we see him up in BoJangles Stranglin a forty ounce, with ten G’s worth of gold bangles Diamonds, what, all up in his face With his man’s mace, medallions the size of dinner plates Yo, he knew we knew him so we blew him Took thirty G’s worth of jewels of that nigga DO HIM! So now I’m lampin in my man’s Land Streets is hot like sand Jesus rollin in my right hand Yup, you know the steezo black Got to go down like that Shallah Cigars AND BALL HATS

[Outro:]

Ninety-four, takin niggaz to war, yo, yo

What do you believe in? Heaven or hell? You don’t beleive in heaven cause we’re livin in hell [x2] So it’s your life (we’re livin in hell, we’re livin in hellllllll) What a chamber, fuckin with mad strangers Yeah, you know how it runs baby, straight up yo Money clothes, designer hoes and shows y’all That’s how it goes Whatever

What do you believe in? Heaven or hell? You don’t believe in heaven cause we’re livin in hell 31st chamber y’all So it’s your life

(What do you believe in? Heaven or hell?) Niggaz ain’t even know Son, only half is sewed cash (You don’t believe in heaven cause we’re livin in hell) They haven’t yet sold their weight (What do you believe in? Heaven or hell?) Question, shit is real, youknowhatI’msayin (You don’t believe…) Niggaz think it’s all about a real live Allah A little hundred dollars and that make you a man KnowhatI’msayin? You ain’t even promised tomorrow Son, word up Niggaz don’t understand how life can be so short Come so fast With the blinkin of eye, blinkin of eye you’re gone baby Straight up, knowhatI’msayin, get turned to dust Return to the casket That ass is out Son, word up Word up, get evaporated, straight up Word up Lose all your strength nigga Crazy dedication shout out to the memory of Two Cent Jason Heartbroken, we soakin wet though Keepin it real for my peopls Yeah, yo And my physical brother DeVon, you’re still in here baby Because you’re in my arms nigga, word up I never let you go baby YouknowhatI’msayin? You my life charm, word up For real Keep shinin Real for keepin it real, shout out to major niggaz Big Kawai, Jess, Hell in the computer system The RZA, who slams fat discs for the ninety-four Word up, RZA, he’s my nigga baby Yeah, eatin dinner with the big boys now YaknowhatI’msayin? Word up, Big Booth represent the Q Knowhowedo, lamp, get that power-u, type, things on float GZA, word up, Master Killer The don of the Clan, Method Man, Inspector Deck Dirty Bastard U-God, word up baby Keep it real Son Keep packin them guns Word up