| The god of the glorious sons, the terrible ones
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| Grant me your genetic powers, the guardians come
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| Ishtar, Buddha, rulers
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| The armies I’m from is super
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| My pen touch the pad, it turns nuclear
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| My words become fewer
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| I’m now in the future as I’m channeling
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| The Tetragrammaton start unraveling
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| I stop Thor at the door, no hammers in
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| Y’all started fights, I started wars, Samson men
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| I emerge from out of bitter herbs
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| When I was born, I was given myrrh
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| And after I di, I’ll be the living word
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| Chapters and scribs, hymns and verbs
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| I’m the aloe vera of the Sahara
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| Follow the cherubs, I’m be swallowed by the terror
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| Mulattos ride through Morocco with Arabs
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| Blessing those who perished, whose faces were reddish
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| Where spacemen wear goggles from the cosmo era
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| We come for the natives
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| Like those from Toronto in ponchos, the people Monsanto hated
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| And those from the slave-ships
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| And everyone else who they known or related
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| Bone to my bone, flesh in my flesh, left alone there naked
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| Just follow my tone on the microphone as we spin like a record
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| The pain I sketch on paper
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| Make echinacea stretch around the gangsta
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| As flower petals fall over the devil
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| I’ll have ‘em grabbing God’s heel as I put a crown on the savior
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| And the seraphim are covered with Mexican
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| That’s a rare herb used by Central and South Americans
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| Used during temple service
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| Ritual incense-burning
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| Offerings for the deceased
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| Thus say of the Lord God, Lord Sun, the album from Killah Priest
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| In the abode of the righteous and balanced universe
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| I spew this verse 'til they build my tomb in the dirt
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| As they’re mummified and our face move with a smirk
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| ‘cause I know I’ve written for those who’ve been hurt, with balance and
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| brilliance
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| Bestowing the governorship for all, I put my blood in this script
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| My life and true testament at my descent now into the seats of worship
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| The of darkness and many titles of nobility to the unknown Killa Bee
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| Wisdom of the wing writer
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| The pen in my palm is a wand in a ring of fire
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| I wave it, my pages turn to doves and blue stripes
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| I take each one, place ‘em on the stand of my mic
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| Some on the stand of my light
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| It’s magic, understand how I write
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| It’s not rapping, my face and my hands become bright
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| A long pause as my jaws become tight
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| It’s all done
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| Lord Sun |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Ningishzidda , by - Killah Priest. Song from the album Lord Sun Heavy Mental 1.1, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп