Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Time, artist - Killah Priest. Date of issue: 04.05.2015
Song language: English
Time |
| My life flashes, I’m eight years old, my face stares cold |
| At the pastor, as he picks up the robe |
| He reads a chapter, his voice is like, grabbin' my soul |
| The seeds turn blacker and finally it fades out slow |
| The hearing after, a whole brand new screen show |
| I hear laughter, it’s my birthday, I’m eighteen years old |
| I’m on gates between Monroe, eight fiends and young hoes |
| The flake dreams with gun blows, wake screams and blunt rose |
| Up, they lit it, some hit it, I’m drunk |
| So much, that I can’t see straight |
| Another flash, I’m in a fancy place |
| A waiter walks over, hands me a plate |
| I trance it to escape, but it’s too late |
| I shoot my casket, my moms screamin' bastard |
| Ya’ll know who killed them, filled them with them lugers |
| Ruger, you God damn hoodlums |
| But it’s too late, I see the king in the New Jerusalem |
| I can touch the gates |
| Time keep on ticking |
| Stay focused, ain’t no time for politicking |
| Got to keep our young brothers out of prison |
| Every day, I dream it feels like a nation, listen |
| Was this my fate, to be judged in this place |
| Angels watchin' me, I step up to plead my case |
| I see his face in black space, okay let me back space |
| Somethin' went front between that gat and my waste |
| Somethin' went wrong between the slow reaction when they were clappin' my way |
| Is this the judgment, the place where every thug has been |
| After hearin' gun fire, and slugs go in |
| Are you the chosen, or the one known as the omen |
| The gates are open, I wanna know where I’m going |
| Is this the place I was destined to come, I slept in the slums |
| Next to a bum, saw death pestilence and guns |
| I was born cold naked and young |
| Mouth open, rings slashin' off of cardboard, wettin' my tongue |
| We prayed for the shepherd to come |
| I was called a monster, I was a youngster |
| Crawlin' out the dumpster, toes were bloody, clothes we muddy |
| Eyes were crummy, peeped to the skies above me |
| Cried I’m ugly, found out this life don’t love me |
| Despised by the country, paralyzed in my one knee |
| Talked to the most high, Priest, hug me, real, real |
| No, no, no, no, no, no, no |
| Priesthood, Savoy Murda |
| G-13, what’s poppin', oh, no, no, no |
| No, it’s real, it’s real |
| It’s real, just sing it when it’s real |
| It’s real, it’s real, it’s real, it’s real |