| Emcees will have nightmares about the God right here
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| Flights of stairs runnin' recurrin', he’s comin'
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| Concussions, concumptions, combustions
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| Your head bussin', lead clutchin'
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| You’re dead fucka, I got the bread to cover
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| I’ll have an emcee morgue
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| Step inside the fog
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| Many died tryna understand my dialogue
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| Side parks, write a blog
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| I’ll be oblige to applaude wit the machine gun for fun
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| Priest the Alfred Hitchcock of Hip-Hop
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| Since BIG-Pac, I’m the big shot
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| Stamina for Pamela or Kid Rock
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| Empty clips out on ya plot
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| Lift the Glock, rob you and yours for your wrist watch
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| Peoples rock Eight-off jackets
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| Sawed-off ratchets, haul y’all in caskets
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| Shout out to Adolf the assassin
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| You maggots, rock wit a Messiah faction
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| Holy of Holies is up next
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| Rim on deck, my pen put y’all to death
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| But this will be more spiritual then somethin' lyrical
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| (Hook) 2x
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| Niggas talk and run their mouth till the Hawk come out
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| Let me show you what New York’s about
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| Let me show you what Brooklyn’s about
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| Let me show you why this hook’s in ya mouth
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| Keep fuckin', I’ma do somethin'
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| Killers in the street, dealers in their beef
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| Niggas squeeze triggers
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| 'Fore heat makin' brief niggas could eat quicker
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| Ambulance truck pull up, niggas try and glance
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| «Damn, what the fuck, who got bucked?»
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| Spend a dollar on the dutch, lit one up
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| While the goons post on the roof sittin' in the cut
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| Ridiculous, chick is cluck for the roosters
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| Ruthless shooters, use to die on corners
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| Or shootin' hoop cuz…
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| There ain’t no leaders so there ain’t no future
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| Plus all of his school teachers called him a loser
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| Apple Bottoms, Red Monkey
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| Tap the bottles, spend money on the Timberland boots
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| At the dice game, the middle-men scoop all of the loot
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| Gimme a cause to shoot, bitches wit fat onions
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| Thick lips, lemme hold somethin'
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| Cats wit no doe frontin'
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| Niggas 18 or 36, life is a dirty bitch wit crab
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| She picked out of her ass and threw it in the bucket
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| Fuck it
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| (Hook) 2x
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| I spaz out wit the Mac out
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| Get back out then I blackout till it’s black out
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| Then I pass out
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| Fuckin' rappers, y’all assed out
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| Lyrically Walter Reed is the best
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| Fought emcees like they chess
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| The fourth will squeeze on ya necks
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| Ultimately to your coffin bleedin' till your death
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| Paramedics kept, here’s the record —
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| You tryna lead my people in your step?
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| Nah son, leave those niggas alone
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| Priest got us sewn, he in the zone
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| It’s hard to hear y’all from his throne
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| King of BK, ee-zay, best of Ra
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| From outta Bed-Stuy into Best Buy
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| How many emcees must I defeat?
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| I let the lead fly, but not the lead that come from a bullet
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| But the lead that I write in my footage, feel me?
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| (Hook) 2x |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Night Hawk , by - Killah Priest. Song from the album The Exorcist, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп