Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Do You Want It (feat. Crystal Graves), artist - Killah Priest.
Date of issue: 15.06.2015
Song language: English
Do You Want It (feat. Crystal Graves) |
That’s it, it’s war |
Priesthood, Priest |
(Mother Earth was pregnant from third thing |
Your in lock with it, I have tasted |
The maggots of the man, I was no up in this |
But I knew I had to rise above it all |
Or drown in all shit) |
Priest, Proverbs, hahaha |
Ya’ll cats think I was just gonna come off, and I don’t get none |
Thought ya’ll wasn’t hear from me again, right? |
That’s right baby, Killah Priest, Priesthood, Priest Stone |
Knowhatimean? |
Priesthood, yeah, uh |
Yeah, yeah, this is Priest, yo, Killah Priest, Priest Stone, Priesthood |
Back for good, knowhatimean? |
Thought ya’ll wasn’t gonna hear from me again |
Now I gotta scream on everybody (family) everybody battlin' |
Battlin' in the street, whatever, check this out, yo |
It’s Priest standing in his greatness, God’s favorite |
I rock the Star like King David, my Queens bathe in |
I walk past, they start wavin' |
Each arm, a thousand bracelets, face it, I’m the greatest |
Made women drunk from the royal fragrance |
I rock the latest in fashion, my jewelry flashin' |
In other countries, they can hear my magnums |
When they blastin', I heard they sound like thunder clappin' |
Hit you in your stomach, watch you start gaggin' |
Who gives a fuck if you’re platinum? |
If you’re lyin' in a wooden casket |
For good, now that’s 'hood… |
Yo, every knee shall bow, every tongue shall confess |
Enemies lie down while I’m clutchin' my tech |
It’s on, the Priest, the Prophet, the King, the God |
The sun, you see him quickly when I’m poppin' my gun |
It’s on… |
Thou shall fear me, only as thou’se been guilty |
Feel me, sincerely yours, Priest, now industry tried to kill me |
Before sat at tables, like the Savior at The Last Supper |
Amongst nine rap lovers, three crack hustlers, with gats covered |
Peep my last words, in the Proverbs, observe me |
If you’re worthy, I 'member your ass show |
When ya’ll was wet and cold, I cover ya’ll with robes |
Gave ya’ll flows, when ya’ll give ya’ll soul |
I gave ya’ll flesh, covered ya’ll bones |
Breathed in you, sat ya’ll in thrones |
Now ya’ll betrayed me, I raised thee from babies |
To ya’ll were grown men |
For your birthday, I gave ya’ll your own pen |
To write with, beware of vipers, and snakes and biters |
I taught ya’ll about the depths of words and dark sentences |
Now ya’ll don’t remember shit, but try to mimic it |
When I see my crown, just give me it, it’s mine |
Seek your own rhyme, it’s on, seek your own rhymes, come on! |
I lay rappers down, with the mac or the pound |
Pop 'em, stretch 'em out with they backs to the ground |
Leave 'em lost in the woods, gotta find them with hounds |
My four five’ll turn a nigga from fatigues to bow-ties, no lie |
Put a nigga close by, the Most High |
Or he’s a Dream Catcher, the Indian myth, pick one |
Semi or fifth, your shell get hit, ladies spell my shit |
A-D-D, I-C-T, I-V-E, lick your lips, come try me |
Contestants, hook 'em up to I. V |
In hospital, I pop pistols, fellas get ya hit like Hot Nikkels |
Killah Priest, the Priest Stone, or High Priest, I pop three |
Leave rappers in memory, the winner be me |
Priesthood, A.K.A. |
Body, yo |