Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Crooked Angels , by - Chief Kamachi. Release date: 07.06.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Crooked Angels |
| Yeah, this that Section-8 Egyptian slang |
| Mic Messiah |
| Yo should I do some evil? |
| Because my whole squad illegal |
| They want that street shit tell me I’m too cerebral |
| Take Illmatic mixed with some Beanie Sigel |
| Islamic flag in a 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 lottery, all I wanna win is one |
| But my record’s in a red |
| Finger’s still connected to the lead |
| Put down that one-two checker to ya head |
| Chief Kamachi known as Osura Ucha Eb |
| Tryna give you the science and the principals |
| Kill my body but the spirit is invincible |
| Hold my own on a soldier throne |
| Kamalah back to the Vatican exposing Rome |
| Ayo I’m doing this for crooks with arms |
| Corner store Priest with their books of charms |
| And all of the ahki’s that give salam’s |
| And all the Black magicians that wave their wands |
| It’s the rap Dikembe |
| Back in my African kente |
| 80's gold chain rock Sergio Valente |
| I’m a hustler, ways of the mystics I use |
| They don’t understand, say I’m contradicting my views |
| I look the preacher in his eyes |
| Spit on his shoes, he’s a liar |
| Who the Messiah? |
| Nigga sit on the pews |
| My resurrection pay some unforgettable dudes |
| It’s so deep, sometimes I gotta spit it in clues |
| They say I’m crazy, mental, Kamachi is 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 drink, sit up like a King when he rule |
| Take a stroll around my castle and pick up a jewel |
| Like it’s an Easter egg hunt in elementary school |
| Think deep like a building penitentiary tools |
| Around the globe, they use to see me for centuries rule |
| Yo, beware when the serpent’s tongue scorched the script |
| The torture’s lit, I fiend pitchfork your clique |
| Lord of the crip, skeleton absorbing the grip |
| An 012 astronaunt forced to strip |
| You stoneage gangsta old Porsche with a stick |
| I’m in a lightmobile, deal with a force that is sick |
| Pharaoh mind, you the soft Christmas carol kind |
| Mic Messiah, my authentic apparel shine |
| Bulletproof aura, look at what your arrows find |
| You should try walking the stairs that the sparrows climb |
| My pyramids is closed for guest |
| Why take time to study and expose the rest |
| Hip-Hopper slash witch doctor of finesse |
| Gold king Tut coffin when they put me to rest |
| Frankincense and an Ankh tattoo to my chest |
| Screaming «Section-8 Egyptian did it the best» |
| Messiah!!! |
| Yeah, c’mon |
| For my crooked angels worldwide |
| Yeah, Mic Messiah, Chief Kamachi |
| Yeah, Philadelphia |