In-Con Sequential Art




Well… this is unfortunate. You've fallen into dire circumstances, I'm afraid. Never to fear; dire circumstances are why my industry exists, after all. I'd be overjoyed to offer a helping hand. That said, I must advise you that in the event that my munificence is answered by a precipitous plummet in the stock of my faith in personal responsibility, this… charitable loan… shall be remanded to the bailiwick of an organlegger. Ah, yes; I can see you're attending me quite avidly now. And trust me on this; I would not employ such remorseless individuals were I not entirely prepared to let slip the dogs of recompense. Oh my… your hand is shaking. Don't let it spoil your signature

Knocked out, you been clocked out; don't act shocked, now, you shoulda seen this comin'
Had bills to pay, get your thrills today, but we will filet you; by your lean wits done in
Son don't bemoan, my heart's made of stone, and an organ donor can't be an Indian giver
You can keep your wallet; go to sleep, my darlin', cuz I mean to harvest marrow, kidneys, 'n' liver

On that next level gangsta shit
I'm a loomin' threat to your pancreas
Call me the thug less ordinary
All that glistens are your systems; respiratory, pulmonary

Coronary issues ain't my concern; when you gonna learn? No time left to burn
Yet you may discern it's my turn to earn and while you adjourn your tale's goin' cautionary

Yeah, it's what inside that counts
Tradin' blood by the ounce in heartbreaking amounts
And it's my stock in service
It might be you've heard this, white-faced, you're nervous

In my eyes you're worthless, but under the surface is a surplus to furnish this wordsmith with earnage
Kick up your courage, you're headed for cold storage; in your porridge we'll forage and frag the baggage for burnage
I get under your skin and what I find within is a skyride to yin and yen and cold credits
And if I'm on your trail, then son I'm gon' prevail, put your guts on the scale; man, you just don't get it

Somehow you just don't get it.

Think you're about to get it.

(Segue 1)

Tick-tock, motherfucker; you hear that shit? That's your life slipping away, second by cold-ass second. 

Just think of this as meals on wheels; realistically it’s similar, a darker sorta deal
I got a zeal to peel, and I feel for ya really, so scream away while I kneel
Don’t congeal too quick now, gotta preserve the package, so I’ll emerge with stackage
Don’t reveal you’re sick now, can’t reverse this stabbage, you’ll have to learn to manage
Without a stomach, I’ll staple you together ain’t no better way to trim off the fat than have it shorn off your back
You’ve won it, the lottery of givin' and please so you can pass on with that stick that feather in your cap
You’re a hero to somebody with a whole lotta money honey, I’m just a middleman savior
Don’t want kill ya but a I got a few bills ta fill and so your fillings I shill, to anyone who pays for
Them, So I’m sorry but you’re meeting your end
Another life and we coulda been friends
But it seems that your wounds won’t mend
And I’ve got other needs to attend so I bent you snuggly in this icebox, This Guy Fawkes mask finally can come off
This life of slaughter can certainly run raw, but money’s good, so why sit and jabber my jaw
No matter my flaws I’m a fellow who knows how to get the job done
In the top ten list of most wanted organ grinders, even without a monkey I’m number one

(Segue 2)

Painless, yeah, but it's really pride that takes the hardest fall, right? At least you're leaving a good-looking set of guts, you know what I'm sayin'? 

So you say she left you, gonna soon forget you, and your heart is rent through, took the love meat with her?
Son, you're 'bout to kick it cuz I bought the pawn ticket and that ticker is mine; you got some beats to deliver
And your liver, as well; yeah, I'm goin' to Hell, but I think that's swell cuz I'm on the Devil's payroll
Pickin' you bare, you got innards to spare, and soon you ain't gonna care cuz you'll be hangin' with a halo

You've been tumbled by a surgeon
Doctor, dealer; watch my industry burgeon
I'm tomorrow's cardio cartel
Clientele thank you for your contribution; farewell


Oh no, no… I'm afraid we're far past the point of reparations; wouldn't you agree? The devil will have his due, as they say, and I did warn you, my boy. In truth, it's you who put a price tag on your life; I merely accepted your offer and sold you to someone willing to accept mine. Chin up, now; at least parts of you will live long, full lives, after a Fashion. I've actually placed a bit on some of you myself; call me sentimental. Ta-ta.