| Priesthood
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| It’s time to ride on y’all
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| A cat named Priest, yo
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| They say it comes like a thief in the night
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| Some say you see fire when he breathes on the mic
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| The legend has it, his neck and his back is tatted
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| On his arms are scriptures of psalms
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| Just vision a Don with vultures on his shoulder
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| A pearl gun in his holster under the seat
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| One on the chauffer, twisted cobras in front of his ride
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| Gun to his side, blunted eyes
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| Lookin' up at thunderous skys
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| The wonders arrive, statues change position
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| Stone eyes open up, pupils follow me inside
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| This is the time, the twisted mind of Priest
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| White wolves leap out the woods
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| Bite at the hooves of all the horses
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| Return like Christ in the hood
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| And the month now is Black August, c’mon
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| They all deny me (pain…y'all really wanna get guns)
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| Stood right beside me (pick one, which one)
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| Try to divide me (if y’all really wanna go for it)
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| While y’all all musify me (holla back and let a nigga know)
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| They all deny me (pain…y'all really wanna get guns)
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| Stood right beside me (pick one, which one)
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| Try to divide me (if y’all really wanna go for it)
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| While all y’all musify me (holla back and let a nigga know)
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| Picture me on a black cross
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| Black crows near both arms
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| Blood drippin' from both palms
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| And I’m squirmin' cuz the sore of my wounds are burnin'
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| Tossed from the wombs of virgins
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| I seen it all, medical room of surgeons
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| Read it all in the KP version
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| I look down, people spittin' and cursin'
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| Everybody quiet, listen to the sermon
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| Record execs dress like Romans
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| Pierce in my side, I’m goin through convulsions
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| Starin' straight to a jet black ocean
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| Three times I heard the rooster crow
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| Cats I used to know denied me but now use my flow
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| Used to feel my taste, my eyes searched the crowd for a familiar face
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| All bein' persecuted for purchasing the music
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| I’m like the works of a Judas
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| Or does it when I hurt my movement
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| While crooked lawyers gamble at the foot of my cross
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| My spirit leaves to the hoods of New York
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| I see streaks of lightning, angels with white wings
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| Above me flapping across the skies
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| They thought I died until one of them heard my cries
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| Now I’m back with blood on my hands, blood on my wings
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| Clutchin' two sub-machines, duckin' and screams
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| Two fully loaded magazines with M-16's
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| Clappin' in the crowd, I empty out and reload
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| I squeeze low, with one knee to the flo'
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| I’mma get all you bastards
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| Loadin' up bullets the size of carrots
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| The kind the CIA find on the Arabs
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| When I’m through y’all won’t need any caskets
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| I’mma leave y’all for the birds and the maggots
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| Then I’mma strike the matches
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| Burn up ya corpses, it’s like I’m possessed by forces
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| Priest the sorceress, then the clouds gather
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| Then the foul scatter, in the air I can taste the warfare
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| Y’all didn’t think I’ll be back for vengeance
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| Well y’all wrong, now suffer the consequences
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| And I came with armed defenses
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| Highly trained to break your fences in
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| Yeah they wanna musify me man
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| Just like they crucified Christ
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| But this is music, they musified me
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| But just like him, if I die
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| I rise in three days
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| Believe me don’t search at the grave
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| I’ll be in the PJ’s hahahaha
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| Follow me |