Текст песни Pardoner (Baba Brinkman) с переводом

In the days…

Before violence was senseless and counterproductive

There were three young friends, who were not to be fucked 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-asses; 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 death took him while he sat in his chair, fuckin' weird!

I guess death 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 death!

You rock a bulletproof vest, shit, he’ll get you for cigarettes!

I’m frickin' vexed! You say I’ll never defeat him?

I say let’s go find him — fuck it — I’m ready to meet him!

The violence in me, reflect the violence that surrounds me

So I say if death 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 «death» 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 death

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 death 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 death just isn’t ready to let me inside!»

That’s when the second thug stepped in like «Shut up!

Death 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 death?

Heh heh, well then that’s what you’ll get

Death 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

Death wasn’t there, just a bag full of money

Stacks of fifties and hundreds, and handfuls of twenties

Suddenly lookin' for death 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 kill

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 fuckin' invertebrates

This isn’t a game; this is a blood sport!»

So first he hit the liquor store, then he hit the drugstore

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 death

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 passed it over to the second thug to follow

And it was all over, they went from boastin' and braggin'

To drinkin' rat poison cocktails, chokin' and gaggin'

And no one was left standing — they all died

Triple homicide, like a Biggie Smalls rhyme

Three friends, lookin' for death, 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 sex 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