| Walked in, both of us looked like terrorists
|
| Walked in, both of us looked like terrorists
|
| Masks on, second floor, dun yo, I handle this
|
| When y’all was fucking around with Bush I was running with Saddam
|
| Puffing on the kush and building with the imam
|
| The only thing you motherfuckers set was the alarm
|
| I’m stronger than the motherfucking Tet in Vietnam
|
| Whoever wanna knuckle up will be deformed
|
| Praying to the altar of the church and reading psalms
|
| I don’t mean weapons when I say that I’m dealing arms
|
| I chop a motherfucking body up and feed the dogs
|
| Me and Billy ain’t even deities we the gods
|
| You a faggot, we the OGs that’s in the yard
|
| Only a select few believe in Fard
|
| The rest gonna meet with Shaitan to bleed and starve
|
| Left hook astronomy, you seeing stars
|
| If I ain’t in the studio drunk I be in bars
|
| Bill buck-fifty this pussy and leave a scar
|
| You might own a team, believe the league is ours
|
| He was the keeper of the seven keys, eighteen a brick
|
| A hundred and twenty-six thousand in a briefcase, give me my shit
|
| It had the look that said, «I am the power»
|
| The white angel with a scorpion branded across the particles of powder
|
| Martyrs in the tower, owls, apocalyptic hour
|
| Sound of pistol shower, crowning a system that devour
|
| Mysticism shrouded in whispers, profound with an interest
|
| Push a button and blow you up with a bomb from a distance
|
| Like for instance in the parked car across from the precinct
|
| Looking out my window watching your window falling to pieces
|
| Bombing emergency, counterinsurgency, serpents flee
|
| Furnished by me, sponsored courtesy of the murder spree
|
| Using religion, science versus superstition
|
| Came from the future to teach us how we overthrew the system
|
| He lost an eye and several fingers on his right hand
|
| Letterbomb sent to him by unidentified fans
|
| The truth was never revealed, he retired to an island near Fiji
|
| So his past would never reappear
|
| Or so he thought until he caught some unidentifiable virus
|
| They say he has five weeks to live |
Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Keeper of the Seven Keys, artist - Ill Bill. Album song Heavy Metal Kings, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп