Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Halos, artist - Blue Sky Black Death. Album song The Razah's Ladder Instrumentals, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 13.04.2009
Record label: Babygrande
Song language: English
Halos |
Knock, knock, who is it? |
I’m back, stop the gimmicks |
I pop pop the biscuit and shut down your businesses |
They wanna white-wash scan-copy my image |
While I became a menace 'cause I found my limits |
Spit it, open up the Book of Life and see my name in it Same sentence, sure my wagers are death if I ain’t live it Ask the Lord for forgiveness of sins that I committed |
Even Solomon predicted, you can’t die with your riches |
Of course, no pillow talk when you lie with them bitches |
Each verse be worth money like Egyptian pictures |
It got worse since the Bush’s took that torch from Hitler |
Pour out liquor for my dead comrades, I ain’t forget ya, man |
A lot of sex, but I’m no Caligula |
I’m livin’Hip Hop, son, you just a visitor |
A lot of faces and the names are similar |
I build with the OG’s down to superiors, yeah |
«Fight the system» |
«Got a precinct with the po-po» |
«Bust your pistol» |
«Seekin'five-O» |
«Fight the system» |
«Got a precinct with the po-po» |
«Bust your pistol» |
«Seekin'five-O» |
Yo, this how we do it, man |
Crooked I, where you at, baby? |
I sit in the dark with my dead homies, obituary pictures |
They talk to me while I’m writin’these literary scriptures |
Sayin', «Crooked, don’t let the Police Military get ya» |
I tell 'em, before they do I’ll be in a cemetery wit ya Militant momma, she was down with the Panthers |
Picture me, a baby G in a dashiki and Pampers |
I was the face of the pamphlets man, the black future |
But nowadays, niggas gat shoot ya, fuck it, I clap rugers |
My nina singin’like Fat Luther |
Vandross, a damn boss bringin’that braat-braat to ya COB is a religion, listen I’m in it Everything I’m spittin’was written wit hidden symbolism in it Infinite wisdom hittin’the intricate sentences I’m spittin' |
Cryptic as hieroglyphics, thought they figured it, but they didn’t |
West Coast Fayroll, killers on the payroll |
20's on my chariot, dodge a blue halo |
Hey yo, ya feel me out there? |
Whassup, Razah |
Momma raised a Hell Razah |
«Fight the system» |
«Got a precinct with the po-po» |
«Bust your pistol» |
«Seekin'five-O» |
«Fight the system» |
«Got a precinct with the po-po» |
«Bust your pistol» |
«Seekin'five-O» |
In this modern-day era, we be in terror, black Che Guevara’s |
On wax we like anthrax wrapped in a letter |
My Beretta is for the slaves with forgotten graves |
Like the names of Dred Scott, we aimin’wit head shots |
Wit scopes and red dots on old prejudice cops |
Who plot on dope blocks with coke measurement drops |
It’s more drugs to schools for kids wit no pops |
My hood be like a cemetery |
They gave a project tombstones and sanctuaries |
This for the kids outside that’s in the military |
No matter black or Israeli, they both want us buried |
It’s a war outside, I hope you gettin’ready |
Get off your celly and stand up and grab a semi- |
Automatic, 'cause momma raised a Hell Razah like Makaveli |
I’d like to pour out some Holy Water |
For all the thug angels we been missin' |
«One day you will look behind you and you will see we three… |
and on that day, YOU WILL REAP IT!» |
«We will send you to whatever God you wish.» |
«And shepherds we shall be, for thee, oh Lord, for thee. |
Power hath descended forth from Thy hand. |
That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. |
So we shall flow a river forth to Thee, |
and teeming with souls shall it ever be. |
In Nomeni Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti.» |