Chief Kamachi - Crooked Angels lyrics

rate me

Shit I do some evil because my whole squad illegal

They want that street shit, tell me that I'm too cerebral

Take Illmatic, mix it with some Beanie Sigel

Islamic flag in the window of a Buick Regal

Niggas ministers, hustle from a crack cathedral

Been on a cross, fell off, snapped the steeple

But who cares if kingdom come?

Old glass of gin and rum, the sin is done

In life's a lottery, all I wanna win is won

But my record's in the red, finger's still connected tt the lead

Put that 1-2-check into your head

Chief Kamachi known as Osura Ucha

Trying to get you the science of the principles

Kill my body but the spirit is invincible

Hold my own on a soldier flow

Kamallah back to the Vatican exposing Rome

Doing this for crooks with arms

Corner store priest with their book of charms

And all of the ahkis that give salams

And all the black magicians that waves their wands

And yo I'm doing this for crooks with arms

Corner store priest with their book of charms

And all of the ahkis that give salams

And all the black magicians that wave their wands

It's the rap Dikembe, back in my African kente

Eighties gold chain, rock Sergei Valente

I'm a hustler, ways of the mystics I use

They don't understand, say I'm contradicting my views

I look a preacher in his eye, spit on his shoes

He a liar, who the messiah? Nigga sit and accuse

My resurrection, paid some unforgettable dues

It's so deep sometimes I gotta spit it in clues

They say you're crazy, mental, Kamachi's confused

I say I'm angelic, God-body, how can you choose?

They say I'm drunk off Eagle in the booth with the booze

I say I don't dirnk, sit up like a king when he rules

Take a stroll around my castle and picked up a jewel

I guess the Easter egg cutting elementary school

Dig deep like I build a penitentiary tools

Beware when the serpent tongue scorch the script

The torch is lit, I fiend to pitchfork your clique

Lord of the crip, skeleton absorbing the clip

In 0-12 astronauts forced to the strip

You stone-aged gangster

Pharaoh-mind, you the soft Christmas carol kind

Mic messiah, my often

Bulletproof aura looking with your arrow's fine

You should try walking the stairs that the sparrows climb

My pyramids is closed to guests

While I take time to study and expose the rest

Hip hop or slash witch doctor finesse

Gold King Tut coffin when they put me to rest

Screaming, section 8 Egyptian did it the best, messiah