Lyrics Smoking Gunnz - Hell Razah, Killah Priest

Smoking Gunnz

«Ooooh guns, Your master is violent, your enemy is peace»
«Thank you all for coming
And thank you for supporting your organization
I have twenty five words for you
From my cold dead hands»
Yea, we don’t make no vests, right?
No pistols, bullets and shells (Yea, «Renaissance Child»)
You’kno’whatI’m’sayin'?
We don’t make grenades
(A.K.A. Hell Razah, Maaaccaaabee — Military)
We don’t make none of that shit
We just know what to do with it though
(All my soldiers stand up)
You’kno’whatI’m’sayin'?
(«Smoking Gunnz»)
Y’all sell that shit at Wal*Mart
Y’all sell that shit (
, I smell the «Smoking Gunnz»)
Ask the NRA where the «Smoking Gunnz» at?
Yo, I’m where projects is crack mansions
It ain’t been this real, since the Black Panthers
We ain’t the Beatles makin' music for you Charles Mansons
I make a whole college campus since the Mac anthem
'Til America fall, I stand stronger than the Berlin Wall
My software is warfare for the poor to install
And download in your Medulla, who’s the lion of Judah?
And send a virus through the wires of the beast’s computer
They raidin' our cribs, invasion like Bay of the Pigs
For my hood, we reacted like how Castro did
Modern day Eisenhower — sent the planes to the Towers
While the government blamed it on some nuclear powers
A world, traded their weapons for some U.S. dollars
Take notes, of the quotes, when you buildin' with scholars
I sit back, doin the knowledge, who be sniffin' that powder?
It’s white collar, criminology versus Jehovah
If you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn»
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from?
(Yea)
I would ask Smith & Wesson how to make me one (Ask them)
You should smell your own hands for the «Smoking Gunn» (Can you smell it?)
Yea, if you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn»
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from (Ask him)
I would ask Smith and Wesson how to make me one
You should smell ya own hands for the «Smoking Gunn» (Smell it?)
My saliva is liver, son I write with the hand of an arson
Give me a harpoon, I autograph my name in shark skin
Get deeper each bar, like you swimmin' with dolphins
Keep my head above water, to enlighten my aura
White robes, black justice versus judges and lawyers
Supreme Court be a force that was made to destroy us
To the Most High, I testify to plead my case
While they hate on my race and white wash the faces
This the Renaissances ages, I value my wages
Ask the reverend why the Bible be missin' some pages
Do we suffer 'cause the birth right was given to Jacob?
Or because my brother Isa (pbuh) was Isaac’s favorite?
They named us Native Indians and then enslaved us
Broke bread with the enemy that soon betrayed us
Lured the lions out the jungle, then they put 'em in cages
Now the cubs live in wildlife, spittin' out razors
Hunt or be hunted, a species, livin' in danger
Took the God and their language, now they labeled us gangsters
Criminals, ex-cons, Ariel Sharon
Another reason, I’m squeezin' with the right to bare arms
If you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn»
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from?
(What?)
I would ask Smith & Wesson how to make me one (Uh-huh)
You should smell your own hands for the «Smoking Gunn»
Yea, if you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn» (Uh-huh)
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from
I would ask Smith and Wesson how to make me one
You should smell ya own hands for the «Smoking Gunn» (Where you at?)
I write seeds like the Borgia family
Cut throat for the throne
Posin' as Christ, the six Popes of Rome
Cardinals bangin' on church doors, the verses I draw
Written out like curses on boards
Read 'em backwards, no distractions
Find out, Priest is John the Baptist
With a rap gift, I come to free the captives
Like Jesus in Nazareth, deep as Atlantis
The prayin' mantis, with the advantage
When it comes to the English sand scripts
I write it eight times, like Tarantulas
Slugs fly through the Vatican Walls
Then the great dragon will pour
Drip water while I’m sweatin', readin' the Torah
He spots me, swam from the sea to the border
Grab my ribs, I kick him where he has his kids
He head butts me, slams me on top of my pastor’s crib
I stand up, back ripped up, recitin' the forty-ninth psalms
Holdin a medieval knife in my palms, the right to bare arms
I stick him in his head, hell bust wide open
Demons come out smokin', flyin' through my body
I grab their tail then slew his army
I say a verse just to wake the zombies
It’s Priesthood.
*panting heavily*
If you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn»
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from?
I would ask Smith & Wesson how to make me one
You should smell your own hands for the «Smoking Gunn»
Yea, if you was lookin' for that «Smoking Gunn»
I would ask Dick Cheney where he get it from
I would ask Smith and Wesson how to make me one
You should smell ya own hands for the «Smoking Gunn»
«We have work to do, hearts to heal
Evil to defeat and a country to unite
We may have differences, yes
And we will again suffer tragedy almost beyond description
But when the sun sets tonight
And forever more, let it always set on, we the people
Secure in our land of the free and home of the brave
I for one plan to do my part, thank you»