Enter Khalib / Beanie Sigel - "Kill 'Em All"

Tonight's update is brought to you by long-time friend, boom-bap connoisseur, tireless lyricist and father, and all-around angry guy Khalib Ali. A fellow subscriber to the Verses Of Death philosophy of sheer dopeness, he's been on my back for a few days (weeks? months?) about getting some post time up in this bitch. And being the altruistic motherfucker I am, I was like, sure... just don't come with some wack, corny-ass, bullshit garbage nonsense, feel me? And sure enough, he didn't. But enough with the talkin; I'ma let tha kid go in.

Slither your way through the troubled past of one Mr. Dwight Grant. Whether it be the documented prescription pill-slash-liquid codeine problems, falling out with entrepreneur and Roc-A-Fella founder Jay-Z , or grindin' out hard time upstate, what you're left with is the self-proclaimed Broad Street Bully, Beanie Sigel. The man is an emcee with above-average lyrical capabilities and delivery; he'll probably never wow you like an Eminem or late-90's Wu verse, but he will have you breaking your neck. Which brings us to today's Verse of Death: Bean's effort on "Kill 'Em All," a murderous cut from Vinnie Paz' 2010 solo outing Season of the Assassin. The song is centered around the gun laws in Philadelphia, the city that fathered both emcees' styles. Not since "The Truth" had Sigel really caught my ears--until now! Mac Mittens gets an A for lyrics, delivery, and flow on this one [plus the beat is fuckin disgusting! -ed. note]. Look no further...

Beanie Sigel - "Kill 'Em All" (verse) by BlazeStar_VOD

May death come to all those who cross us
The preachers, the pastors, the deacons, coffins
Church masses, closed caskets

Bible verses, long black hearses
Long-ass gats too big for holsters

Obituary posters is gettin posted
The reaper closin in, he gettin closer
You just fake, you blink (whaaaa!) It's over!
State Prop soldier here, SK shoulder-gear

Ice grill who? Hold that stare
Half a clip now, hold dat there

Shoot out'cha hip, now; roll that chair, uh... yeah

You missed the list of the souls I spared
I double-checked it, you ain't on that there

I squeeze weapons

Hollowpoints open up like the cobra head
Collapse lungs like a fold-up chair

Flatline, clear!