KILLAH PRIEST lyrics : "Priesthood (Horsemen Mix)"
[horses neighing]
As the final days begin, God sends four terrible hor!@&( [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. $#&@ that!
(Set it off.) Yea, yea, ya %#@!ted.
Ya in some %#@! now, son.
It's on now, motha$#&@as can suck my dick.
I'm back! $#&@ that %#@!!
Ready to eat ^!$$%z up, beat they $$# and e'rything, son.
I'ma prove this %#@!, right here.
Me and my ^!$$%. What!?
[Movie Sample]
Violence and punishment of enemies.
[Killah Priest]
I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, ^!$$%, 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, ^!$$%? Look at ya talk %#@!
Just can't do it, cuz you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a karate class
And took one second, to put yo' $$# in a body bag
>From a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don't last
I like to pop %#@!, don't get me started
I slap y'all motha$#&@as like y'all little kids in kindegarten
Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this, I'ma call my whole motha$#&@in squadron
[Movie Sample]
The four hor!@&( of the apocalypse are among the bible's
most terrifying figures.
[Killah Priest]
Cuz y'all ^!$$%z is $#&@ed up
and Brooklyn ^!$$%z 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]
^!$$%z bop yo' heads to this, real %#@!
Call up yo' cliques to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new %#@!, Priest killed it
[Canibus]
Yo, yo, yo
Yo I'm a Macabeast MC and I possess the ability
To run at top speed without bendin my knees
I destory %#@!...
[Movie Sample]
The fourth hor!@&( is the most frightening of them all.
[Canibus]
...wrap my hands around ya neck region
Then I start squeezin 'til ya stop breathin
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
You'll probably never walk ever again
^!$$%, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff
Pull you behind my horse til I break ya spine, (*##$
Stop cryin (*##$, before I hit ya wit the Iron Fist
You can't rhyme (*##$, the one triple nine's mine (*##$
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 (*##$es for askin for our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back, I'll scratch your's (*##$
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 hor!@&( on the back of four quadropeds
Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, motha$#&@as!
[horses neighing]
Submit Corrections