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[Killah Priest] Beautifully displays of art Priest the playing turf for plankton Embrace pens and engrave my mark My symbols the owl, the virgin with child The golden crown will caress it With Stars of David your god spit bars that's sacred It Solomon reign, just follow, he's king Who dares challenge chalice? You fools are spiritually empowered Lyrically get my pen and pallets I'm the black old fellow From where they sell crack in broken ghettoes 'Til they boil the coke and kettle settles The Messiah, I speak on higher levels, shots are echo The old rebel with torn armour, brush off the rose petal My gold will nestle in diamond bezels When I'm rhyming from the Hell hole I wrestle devils 'Til I'm angel down to poet I'm flow's sick, the mic can taste my cold spit Priest, I hold it down a letter, nigga It's the Letter [Killah Priest] Yo fuck Bush, we inside the __ cook book An Amazon train, complements from the cook America's a boiling pot, shootouts people call the cops Everyday she's jumping off, remember freeze tax summer salts Off the magic nowadays it's free for police captains My summer starts from each other when ours gats clapping Quiet when the Priest is rapping Read the close caption, I bring you close to the action When shit be popping off, funerals and closed caskets Dark as the holster on my ratchet Now let's toast on the flow no one else can match with Or think ill as me, my brains ability for the graphic With streets colour with tranquillity I'm the ___ and y'all grant y'all agree I used to be a Killa Bee but now I'm just a wildebeest I used to be on Willerby Now I make robes and thrones out in Sicily Fuck selling crack, I want a continent on the map The CIA was invented to oppress blacks And Jesus was black, the Lost Tribes are black Check it, my vibe is back and watch me ride on this track It's Killah Priest, the illest from the East Coast Motherfuckers get deep throat like Sav Killz said 'I'm old school like a pea coat', niggas [Killah Priest] Shorties on our blocks said our rocks better from cops When will this shit stop we need a break, freedom debate Our fates lies in their hands Malcolm X was a powerful man, the truth seekers hours at hand Guns is got to be real by Cheryl Lin Marylyn Banks are closing Flows, ___ and peaches golden These are hood rhymes over break beats by Sheik It's good times, the coats we wore back then were made from sheep It's Priest the palm reader Two jars of reefer and the bullet ether It's not over bottom leader Holloway Revolvers are sprayed, dollars get paid to hit men Twenty g's on that judges head And fuck Arnold Schwarzenegger I want that arse dead Yeah, through the Heatwaves and 'Boogie Nights' Until the LA surgeons kiss, tuck you goodnight Priest, the Edgar Allen Poe with the flow Raw as that shit Tony Montana put up his nose And what he took shots for and what God took Pac for And what dealers cook rocks for I'm 'The Offering' I'm in the hood like being fried rice and four wings, nahmean Uh it's Priest, I'm in the hood like fried rice and four wings |
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