| What up, Priest?
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| What up, cat?
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| Since you’re one of the dopest MC’s that I ever heard
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| I want you to kick the story
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| Yeah, I got one, already.
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| The dopest story I heard, check it Thieves in the temple, a priest murdered at the doorstep
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| He heard the hounds of horses, surround his fortress
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| Look down, the whole town with torches
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| Blood on the door knock where our lord slept
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| Night before the see-er saw it, so they slept nautious
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| Broken windows with cannisters, hidden cameras
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| Masked man at the top of the bannister
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| Shattered glass everywhere, someone pushed his man down the stairs
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| A knife in the back with a note attached, read 'Beware'
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| Looked up, saw a blowin curtain, a open window
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| and heard the whistle of the soft air, someone screamin 'warfare'
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| So Solomon takes cover, a servant yells out 'the bitch is cursed,
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| don’t touch her', but he trusts her, he also loves her
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| Cause her to hold the sharing, his bright moon and star
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| His lil’way out the valley, a spy cut her throat inside a dark alley
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| Someone knocked his daughter off a balcony, bloodshed in Galilea
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| The cowardly flee to the hills of Cabarea
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| Thieves of a hundred gates, the queen of cities
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| No one shows pity, flyin spirits, floatin demons, fallen saints
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| Soldiers walkin by their ranks, service of the East gate, scared to drink
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| What would our leaders think? |
| Every man lookin at each other, scared to blink
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| The seed inside the sanctuary, scary
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| Portraits of Saint Mary, with Mona Lisa
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| The Queen of Cheeba, strokin a cheetah
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| Other mid-wives sayin 'I don’t like the way he treats her'
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| Pass the reefer, bad cheeba, Solomon judge wisely
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| Wisdom spoken of highly, hair knotty, ask God 'Why me?'
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| It’s the street life that I write
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| From beginning to end
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| Dealin with these lies and deceptions
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| Like the fall of Solomon
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| And all my niggas in the State Pen
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| Who doin five to ten
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| Order these Gods to untie me He said men do not despise a thief if he still dissatisfy his soul
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| If he’s captured he shall restore it, seven fold
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| A legend unfold, let it be written in the scroll
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| Solomon’s gold, swallow them whole
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| He said 'Fuck you!', make me another Pagan God
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| Usin brass poles, spies layin up in the closet
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| They open the door, they spray holes through the prophets
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| Solomon whispers, a man reaches in his zipper
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| The king killed by his own bishop
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| Hit beneath the babel gate himself, fucked when he hicced up Tears of a child, 'Daddy, get up!'
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| Fast forward, you see Malcolm X fallin from a pulpit
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| Sprayed up by bullets, dead over bullshit
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| Niggas layin on the pavement, holes in their Woolridge
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| Look what the wolves did, full clips and cartridges
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| Imposters live, abduct the kids in front of corner stores
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| Poppin shit, throwin up gang signs at the same time
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| Them niggas roll dice and fight canines/K-9's
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| Should I wake 'em up or let 'em stay blind?
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| Cause education seem like it’s only shit to a thug
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| You either Crip or you Blood, really? |
| I’m sick of the grudge
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| Y’all niggas need to dip it in blood, I should walk by And take a flick of your mug, show you how vicious you was
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| Neighborhood overflooded with liqour and drugs
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| Young queens grow up to be strippers in clubs
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| Man, damn son!
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| It’s the street life that I write
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| It’s the street life that I write |