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