(feat. Ras Kass)



[Intro: Killah Priest]

Yeah... Priesthood again, Killah Priest

Proverbs, the whole unit, Savoy up in here

You.



[Killah Priest]

Nigga wanna front, get him with the pump

Bag a body up, on back of the truck

Whoever this, ain't hear from since

Beretta's spit, then I'm off in the trench

Once the head spit, dust off my prints

Bullet wounds left more than an inch

Six in him and four in his bitch

Ya'll should just stop and just call it quits

Only gonna end up in the morgue or the ditch

When I start rhyming, put my all in it

I ain't got time for no baller shit

One clip, take a nigga to the exit

Pray that he meet death quick

Poison body like asbestos

Shot him when the tech spit

At the same time, aim nines, canine



[Chorus x2: Killah Priest, Ras Kass]

So what ya'll want, dog, what's the deal?

I ain't got, nothin' for ya'll, but lots of steel

I ain't, runnin' from ya'll got shots to peel

I ain't, fallin' cuz ya'll, cuz my heart stays real



[Ras Kass]

Yeah, looky here, ain't no crooky here

Punk pumps no fear or Kool-Aid

Pump shit the opposite of what you feel, fuck what you say

Wanna see me trapped (uh-huh), fucked in the game (okay)

Locked up in the pen, or, caught by the flames

Nah, caught up by the same thing, glock to your brain chain

Maintainin' these strange days, pains, what this fame brings

But how you gon' stand out, with your hand out, beggin' like a bitch

Expect me to do you a favor, and get you rich

Faggot, I don't owe you shit, so quit, don't show you shit

Except, when I'm makin' sure you, who spit

Either it's this microphone click, either way that go is a hit

So please believe, thanks to gullies and get gats, so easily



[Chorus w/ Killah Priest ad-libs]



[Killah Priest]

Nigga still wanna beef with court police

Your code on the streets, is backwards, man

As we hold heat, put holes in your jeep

Nigga, what you preach, you should practice and

This gat in my hand put you back in the land

Six feet deep sleep, eternal, they sold heat in inferno

Watch your body drop while your soul leaps external

Bullet pop like Three's Company did to Colonel

I gotta taste for war, that's why I lick shots

And hate for ya'll, bigger than hip hop, nigga stop

Ya'll not street, ya'll not Priest, ya'll not Ras, ya'll straight trash



[Chorus x2]



[Outro: Killah Priest]

Yeah, Killah Priest, Ras Kass

For you and yours, from the force, the Horse

That's right ("the wicked"), 2002, 2003, whatever

What it's gon' be... pop off