[Intro: Killah Priest (Tragedy Khadafi)]

Yeah, pass that (word up, word up

Word up, haha, that shit feel good right?

Knowhatimean?) Yeah (Gem Star the Regime, straight up

Black Market the revolution) Yeah (Both sides of the coins)

Inside of this (You understand what we talkin' bout?) Uh-huh

(We giving y'all fair warning)



[Tragedy Khadafi]

Hot lead bust through iron pipes

Blood drips from the corner of young thug's mouth, the hood life

His torn flesh, and his last bit of breath

Pulses, over death fless, homicide hover like vultures

Married the game, now the Earth's dirty and dulgis

Should of seen him though, niggaz though his heart was the coldest

Left two seeds, little son Rod was the oldest

Two baby mothers, blowing guns, duckin' under covers

And his motto was, no one in this whole world love us

From the womb to the tomb, presumed the youth's scars

Soul on ice, tears of a killer, behind bars

When you curse God, streets is a gangsta's graveyard

My advice, in the meantime, to you, is play hard

It's real, when you deal with the cards you dealt

It's not real, when your seeds feel the pain you felt

Break the curse, disciple, nigga, pave the way

It ain't gangsta, when your seeds go lay in the same grave

Then die in the same hood, bleed on the same corner

The game's over, all of my niggaz, have fair warning

Fair warning... lie's life



[Killah Priest]

My rhymes a guideline, for political thugs and O.G.'s

Who blows trees in front of authorities, like giving a fuck

Revolvers will squeeze, regardless to the warrants you read

Trauma we bleed, before they put our wrists in them cuffs

I sit in the cut, like I'm sixty two, and next Panther

Narrator, screen writer for niggaz in handcuffs

Gangstas are freedom fighters doing life in the slammers

Where the strangers take advantage, when they tie bananas

And I thank you, what the knife til we collide with them hammers

Phantoms, they talk before we sell them

Cats yell from they gut, the shells come and their skeleton struck

How I survive that four/five, well I tell 'em it's luck

Fellas erupt, at chow time, shots heard from a loud nine

Fitted turbans, we feast and beneath her loud signs

I don't care, we cripple you blood

When cops come, get rid of them drugs

For revolution, grab that mask, pistol and glove

This is the love, black oils richer than blood

I'm sick of the grudge, between vice laws and G.D.'s

Latin Kings and Mieta's, it's that real shit, that hood lecture



[William Cooper]

Your future's outlined in chalk, when you tangle with dope

If you know what they risking, they eventually choke

I put the flames to the smoke, your body leaks til y'all soap

Black Market's the vote, now we that uncooked coke

That smuggled in on boats, dippin' DEA coats

Poppin' up like toast, so don't play me too close

The FBI and the Mob be like the Bloods and the Crips

Seems like the root of all evil, leads to government chips

It's better to slip with the foot, then slip with the tongue

Flash both sides of the coin, then the Yin and Yang forms

Keep it straight, black and white, with no gray in my zone

Stand on top of my word, what I gave is my soul

So who do I owe? Dug myself up out of a hole

And while y'all fightin' for gold, I'm fight the NWO

Since twelve years old, I'se nowhere to get a burner

Because the breath of the devil, have you huggin' the corner



[Chorus x2: Killah Priest]

And in the hood, we spit gem star's

Givin' you fair warnings, for life lectures

Puttin holes in your tecture

Only two ways to go, parole or the stretcher

We'd rather be on our thrones, holdin' our chesters