Текст песни Killah Priest - Nazareth

Digital Dynasty 23
Жанр: Hip-Hop
Исполнитель: Killah Priest
Альбом: Digital Dynasty 23
Длительность: 02:33
Рейтинг: 612
MP3: Скачать
Загрузил: AndrewCG


[Killah Priest] I spit at these lyrics, so vivid, they pictures On project walls, twelve feet tell, hell grease, ya'll Fire brimstone, the writer, grim poems, Edgar Allen Poe with the flow Goes the silencer, upon the cold nozzles Of the four-four caliber, *shot shot* No more challenger, woolie show like Gallagher Ink pens in my hand, like a spraypaint caint You can't resist your mind, the black Michaelangelo Hands'll sculpt, the Eiffel tote, the mics I broke Residue leads to a trail, another Priest tale Death I pulled, the witch-lord-king, that rip off wings When I spit 16, it gets extreme, explicit scene No more dreams, just cold screams, happening Re-occuring rappers wanna perform, they need insurence [Bronze Nazareth] My cyclone poem, fix the roof of the Superdome You crash your plane in my building, just try'nna get on And it's a vein, cold rain, write my words in propane Keep the, heat in store, like the stones in Maytag Carry more blades than grass in your yard, grab your rake I'm original, man on the take, burning the shake Roll 'em, blow, the solar fails out the blood bank The Wu-Fam armory, my beats got bodies Know the rolly when to grave, with the tip of a shotty Pasidena lobby, bullet holes from robbery, probably Veins made of cobblestone, bitches go home wobbly Capture life like photographs, double stuff hash Pure mid-serious grim, with verbal whiplash From the fetus to the oversear, I bleed it Nigga, your crime'll Crystal Mountain, just to try to go see it My life is a movie script, John Singleton reading The blood flow like magnum, harder then traps in Eden Send shockwaves, I circles, some objects dropped in lakes I spray phrases, til the brain can't operate Discombobulate, the populate, Texas Chainsaw lock your grip Counter row, Wu symbol conglomerate Team I'd rather far, than be spit in the face Jesus asked God when I'm dropping my next tape Nigga, Bronze colored disc, razor blade shape [Vast Aire] Pass me the dutch, I'll fill it up I wrote this rhyme in the corner, like I was a dunce If I, told ya twice, I told ya once That's word to the Trina' man, that sold you fronts You be number nine, I did not stutter The sun is my dad, the moon is my mother Look dude, there is no other Like the Three Wisemen, that came from Persia To bless Je-sus, peace to Baby Jesus I'm becoming the Buddha, this is my thesis I am the chosen, I've walked on water that wasn't frozen And you can talk shit, but look at your lip, now it's busted Sorta like burgundy, bubbling custard I don't wanna discuss it... I'm on another level, come on, man, look at my mustard That's Grey Poupon, what planet you on? You wanna take my oil, I show you my rocket You wanna take my chain, I'll break ya eye socket Kamikaze, you can't stop this Divine wind, I'm climbing To reach, higher states, to drown in Sitting on the same corner, frowning This is L.X.G., microphone clowning
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