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Текст (слова) песни: Canibus - Priesthood



As the final days begin, God sends four terrible horsemen *horses neighing*

To reek his vengeance on a sinfull word. the first three bring

Conquest to war and famine.

[intro: killah priest]

Yea, yea, yea, yea.

Yea, yea. fuck that!

(set it off.) yea, yea, ya shitted.

Ya in some shit now, son.

Its on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick.

Im back! fuck that shit!

Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and erything, son.

Ima prove this shit, right here.

Me and my nigga. what!?

[movie sample]

Violence and punishment of enemies.

[killah priest]

I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap

Im a vocalist, nigga, Im supposed to rip

Last poets told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist

Then I finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing*

What now, nigga? look at ya talk shit

Just cant do it, cuz you aint got no teeth in ya mouth

And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out

Ya trained all year, in a karate class

And took one second, to put yo ass in a body bag

>from a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties dont last

I like to pop shit, dont get me started

I slap yall mothafuckas like yall little kids in kindegarten

Squeeze yo head till yo kidneys harden

Now watch this, ima call my whole mothafuckin squadron

[movie sample]

The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bibles

Most terrifying figures.

[killah priest]

Cuz yall niggaz is fucked up

And brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya

I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open

But dont worry, cuz ima stitch ya

With a rusty screwdriver

[chorus x2: killah priest]

Niggaz bop yo heads to this, real shit

Call up yo cliques to this, its realness

You feel this in yo streets and village

Spare that new shit, priest killed it

[canibus]

Yo, yo, yo

Yo Im a macabeast mc and I possess the ability

To run at top speed without bendin my knees

I destory shit...

[movie sample]

The fourth horsemen is the most frightening of them all.

[canibus]

...wrap my hands around ya neck region

Then I start squeezin til ya stop breathin

You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues

I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs

Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain

Youll probably never walk ever again

Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff

Pull you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch

Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the iron fist

You cant rhyme bitch, the one triple nines mine bitch

The painll make ya voice change octaves

>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage

We judge mcs by they lyrical fitness

And punish djs for puttin corny stickers on they mixes

Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures

Youll be scared to leave the club wit us

You stratch my back, Ill scratch yours bitch

Ill eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage

I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud

Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood

The four horsemen on the back of four quadropeds

Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!

*horses neighing*

 

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