THE SAINTS (PREMIX) Song Lyrics
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Title: Artist: KILLAH PRIEST Song: THE SAINTS (PREMIX) - ID: 365080 - Date and time (posted): 2007-01-04 08:25:29
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[Intro: Killah Priest (Nas)]
Yeah yeah NASDAQ, Dow Jones shit (Dirty Harry)
That's where it's coming from, Dirty Harry
I feel you on this, I feel you on this
The fall of the Romans, a slight chase on 'em
[Killah Priest]
Light up the grass again
Imagining myself guided by Sabbath films
From the Most High, my ghost fly, I'm travelling
Through broke skies, the globe cries, my soul embrace, I'm carried in
Look down on Earth, forget the curse, the world begins scavenging
Famine hits inhabitants, savages, men marry men inside the Vatican
Poked by the dragon's pen, numbers in our tattered skin
Six-six-six leviathan, rise within with iron fins
The sea serpent, God plant the seed in the virgin
The weed merchants lurking through the beaded curtains
I'm the fetus wrapped with Jesus turbans
Disturbing, I write through my mother's cervix
Peep the street version
I'm like DaVinci, my pen squeeze out sculptures
A renaissance, thugs with niggaz and guns in holsters
Underbosses and in the back, I'm slow
Compulsive, roll up
My Garden of Eden is apartments where they roll their trees in
The serpents lurking through the weak secretion
Quiet, Priest is teaching, riots line the precincts
Tabernacles in the ghettoes is the Devil's castle
Choppers hover like a metal pteradactyl
Graveyard mud cover my black shoes
Cemetaries, with thug statues
Black Jews, taboo, guru of the crack capsules
When Escobar died, it's snow coke, so let's blow smoke
[Chorus: Killah Priest w/ ad-libs]
The Priest, the Nasarite, top 5, dead or alive
Crime cardinals, from Allah's school
Israelite books, we both crooks
True don, let's get it on, word is bond
He's God's Son, I'm the dark one...
Yo, I'm the Priest, he's the Nasarite, top 5, dead or alive
Crime cardinals, from Allah's school
Israelite books, we both crooks
True don, let's get it on, word is bond
He's the God Son, but I'm the dark one...
[Nas]
My pen's a paintbrush, with coloring books of gangstas
Ho's who never change it's tampoon, thinking
Hot as a bullet that went in Abe Lincoln
Your page is the inkaholic, addict for drinking
The hundred proof truth, pouring down my platinum ink pen
Niggas is slipping, niggas forgetting
The child of Medusa's risen, twisted snake heads
You should envision, ice grill ya'll to stone
Hypnotism, born with intuition
As an infant to keep me living, my moms fought off bats
Giant size, flap your wings, sicks with attack
Crying eyes, the next rapper king to react
The science God, is to know thy self
To civilize those around you's a slow process
I release on my own recognence
My sirconscious, on a track as bomb as this one
Ear's to intertwine with, I kick a verse
Til M.C.'s get the curse
[Chorus]
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