Lyrics On The Way To The Top - Killah Priest, Hell Razah, Shabaam Sahdeeq

On The Way To The Top

Son give it right to papyrus
Niggas put ink on paper (yea)
But Priest is more like putting paint on canvas
Take it for granted niggas, y’all niggas want it?
Real shit?
(yeah)
The planets small like they’re marbles
Seen through Allah goggles
So I played Chinese checkers with them
Across the Solar System wits of Nova
Shows the ultra-prism of cold laws
I write bars amongst the stars
Quasars bright light waves far from y’all average rappers
Ice chain bling King I’m God
Next to names like Nas and Ra or Canibus
Lazarus, you niggas back to real emceeing
No whips are European but the pure meaning
Of Kool G Rapping, my loosely tapping
My pen squirt ink that remind you of the works of Sphinx
Hieroglyphic writers from Cairo-Egyptian's tribal Bible predictions
Drug addiction to thug addition
On holy street versions of murders
Two cathedrals with dons as the icons of all his peoples
Shakespearian my theory is the great words that shake villages
Priest God gift to the Mic
The Dark Israelite, Cosmic Lord of the Project
Apostles, street gospel, hood astronomy
Crack astrology, crime philosophy, like psychology
Project anthropology but gangster prophecy
Seen through telescopes from herb
See land through colts and grams
The dope man aborts of lands on the word
Chill, chill, just chill, chill
Ooohhhh Yeeeaaaa
I’m +On The Way To The Top+
And you can not stop
I’m +On The Way To The Top+
And you can not stop
When you drop the drive and it’s all Hip-Hop
Feeling as though you got
You gotta make it pop
And it’s all Hip Hop
Yea, yea, yea…
Yeah, it’s martial law in my hood
We’re like sheep that surround by wolves
When the sun set the project turn into woods
Segregate instead of separate
How can we elevate when hate got us living in this police state
I see the Pope as a member of the K.K.K
We got enslaved when it’s black solidarity day
While the Eagle of America is hunting for prey
We say, 'Eat them', 'cause our freedom been given away
They say my bars is like a law firm
Y’all niggas burn with short term
They wanna put a curse on my sperm
So when I bust off it turns into some maggots and worms
Too late, how to multiply my spurn is born
In the form of Malcolm X versus Damian Thorn
I’m sworn into this Oak with a crown of thorns
I asked my Lord for forgiveness
Before I jot me a sentence
A young king, they surrounded with princes
From the lineage of God’s image
Co-defendant of my old descendents
This was the birth of a 'Sun of Man'
God’s plan in Madonna’s hands
Got Judas on the witness stand
Trial jury they glance
It’s like Ham up in Haiti and France
Front row at the MGM Grand with coke gram
That’s why my people grab eagles when it comes to they fam'
Yea, yea, yo
Aggressive and progressive, inspired to be the best of at
Anything I touch and I think of I’ll manifest it
When I die, statues will cry blood like stigmata
Holes in my hand and feet die for this Hip Hop shit
Twenty percent style, eighty percent substance, intelligent but gutter
Street music I can run wit them
America, land of opportunities and death
Poverty and wealth, corruption and racism
(__*Speaking Spanish*__) but still I’m a park shooter
Got them fake dudes scattering, the kid is back
Enough flames to put in your hand
See my songs are more healthy 'cause I load them with facts
And my clique never slipping 'cause I load them with gats
Revolutionary minds street player combined
Park bench with a bottle of Don, that’s what I’m on
I don’t wear a head wrap but my mind ain’t trapped
This is thug intelligence, the words are eloquent
But I smack them with the butt of the gun just for the hell of it
I’m like antibiotics to rap, hypnotic in fact
Melodical product of blacks in this nation of traps
I’d rather die like a G then go out like a rat
If the street life you chose you gotta accept that
I’m sinister syllable, serious subliminal
Sick of the ordinary and tired of the regular
Turned off by the strange, face make me throw up
They shaking they Nike Airs every time I show up
I electrify tracks, my rhythms are infinite
Y’all dudes is impotent, can’t stand direct
My lines connect with intellect, man you gotta respect
Go to HMV spend a percent of that cheque
My mind is one of God’s greatest designs
You do yourself a great disservice when sleep on mine
You can’t hustle a hustler
Tangle with a tustler
To bleak you with the muffler
Quiet any loud fucker, swayed beige Chuckers
With the Army fatigues, the one wit the leaves
Like you hunting in the woods in the trees