Killah Priest - The Book lyrics

rate me

From black planets I fell from space

Thru a neon cloud, to touched down created a Nephilim race

Chased my bad spirits, six wizards captured me

Hid me in the village

Durin' the earlier periods where I crafted my lyrics

Assassins will hear it, paid by the Popes of the Vatican

Lightning flash, it was grim

They wanna put daggers in my skin

Soon as I grab the pen

What would I reveal that they're scared of?

I guarded it like bear cubs

In this war, it's all fair and love

Their Cardinals were arguin' in front of the dragon statue made of marble

They wanted the novel of the Street Apostle

The thieve gospel, what was in the book that had 'em all nervous?

What was the purpose? They gon' on a serious of murders

Grey smoke raise outta the bullet holes thru the Stained Glass

Held by six ceremonial dressed Presidents, Rabbi's and Arabs

Our Father, who art in Heaven

I will be thy Name, thy kingdom come

I must bring out guns in the name of thy son

And the Holy Spirit make my enemies feel it

Raised around killers in lobbies with sick smiles

With nines in their belts that'll shift crowds

Weed smoke turn to thick clouds

Shorties do the weather report

OG's sip Crown, in this grave is where the rhymes are made

Crimes engraved, in the brains of the adolescence

Adults pressin' charges

Regardless if they wasn't raised by their fathers

Deadbeat daddies, in the street wearin' khakis

Hangin' off their asses, 40's in their hands

Shorty is gon' be a man, you in ya 40's, no money in ya pants

Is this what they're really afraid off, or all of the above?

An Intelligent Thug, gun to the president's mug

Take it in blood, niggas hatin' on the love

Back shootin', crabs in the barrel

I stir the soup till it's brewin'

Pour the whole barrel in, this is when the battle'll end

Passion of my pen, craftsman with the lens

Or is it the injustice of our Government?

Spit 48 bars of coverage, Ark of the Covenant

This art has my blood in it

Flames of brim pebbles, stream of fire

I drain the tires screechin' off next to a corpse in the streets of New York

The dead corpse get up and talk

Warnin' me off the brothers in my own fort

Suddenly my bedroom turns into a court

The corpse turns into a judge

The judge stares across at a jury that found me guilty

A misjudge of character; I was embarrassed of my action

Cause... I thought I was supposed to be friends, count my blessings

The Counsel in question, mount of confessions

At the time of the arrestin', they said I was finished

My time is past, but with my bare hands I grabbed onto the grass

Pullin' myself, now all I needed was Brooklyn's help

Begin kickin' paragraphs that the hoodlums had felt

They begin openin' the Bibles that they took from the shelf

Pray for them, that they despitefully use you

I stepped back, start examinin' who's who?

They said I had a head full of loose screws

Priest! I kick the flows that'll scrape the new school

Blood in my vein, it's runnin' true blue

How did I know? They make it known in my dream

It could be somebody in your own team

That wanna pull the throne from underneath

I slid, under my sheets, still asleep

Everything I was shown was deep