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| Canibus Miscellaneous Priesthood As the final days begin, god sends four terrible horsemen *horses neighing* To reek his vengeance on a sinfull word. the first three bring Conquest to war and famine. [intro: killah priest] Yea, yea, yea, yea. Yea, yea. fuck that! (set it off.) yea, yea, ya shitted. Ya in some shit now, son. It's on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick. I'm back! fuck that shit! Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e'rything, son. I'ma prove this shit, right here. Me and my nigga. what!? [movie sample] Violence and punishment of enemies. [killah priest] I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once i start to rap I'm a vocalist, nigga, i'm supposed to rip Last poet's told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist Then i finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing* What now, nigga? look at ya talk shit Just can't do it, cuz you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth And i know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out Ya trained all year, in a karate class And took one second, to put yo' ass in a body bag >from a shotty blast, i walk up in ya club and ya parties don't last I like to pop shit, don't get me started I slap y'all mothafuckas like y'all little kids in kindegarten Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden Now watch this, i'ma call my whole mothafuckin squadron [movie sample] The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bible's Most terrifying figures. [killah priest] Cuz y'all niggaz is fucked up And brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open But don't worry, cuz i'ma stitch ya With a rusty screwdriver [chorus x2: killah priest] Niggaz bop yo' heads to this, real shit Call up yo' cliques to this, it's realness You feel this in yo' streets and village Spare that new shit, priest killed it [canibus] Yo, yo, yo Yo i'm a macabeast mc and i possess the ability To run at top speed without bendin my knees I destory shit... [movie sample] The fourth horsemen is the most frightening of them all. [canibus] ...wrap my hands around ya neck region Then i start squeezin 'til ya stop breathin You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain You'll probably never walk ever again Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? i leave you lyin stiff Pull you behind my horse til i break ya spine, bitch Stop cryin bitch, before i hit ya wit the iron fist You can't rhyme bitch, the one triple nine's mine bitch The pain'll make ya voice change octaves >from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage We judge mc's by they lyrical fitness And punish dj's for puttin corny stickers on they mixes Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures You'll be scared to leave the club wit us You stratch my back, i'll scratch your's bitch I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood The four horsemen on the back of four quadropeds Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas! *horses neighing* |
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