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He rules in the neighborhood... he rules |
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Uh, try on your robe, man.. yeah it fits |
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It fits you too, I like this, emperor, uh |
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Priesthood, The Offering is now brung to them |
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Show us how you do this talent, what the fuck is this, man |
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It's like this, look |
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[Killah Priest] |
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Nonchalantly, I plant the words in the brain like ganja seeds |
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Horizontally, the way I write Gandhi |
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Beneath of palm trees, calm breeze |
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Like the summer in the late '40's, |
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Before the mob kick in the door of the Don, squeezing automatic Tommy's |
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A blazing glory, that's how he lays |
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A lamp shade, Duke Ellington played |
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The screen starts to fade, cut, end of story |
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Yo, the next one opens up, soda cups, a bottle of Grey Goose |
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And a room full of applejack hats cocked ace deuce, |
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Sam Remo lace boots tapping the floor, a lit cigar |
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Goons got my pops held up with gats to his jaw |
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He said "where is the child, said to come from the Nile |
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Now in the B.K.'s", he paused, as he breaks |
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Did a line... "Not to be sublime, but the kid is ahead of his time |
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He turns Kool-Aid into red wine, |
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Besides that he professes he should be the next king of B.K.", sniff |
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"Besides Kane, BIG and Jay, |
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GZA was underrated |
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But still, the 'Words from the Genius' was the best stated" |
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I ain't scared to say it, back in the days, we had groove |
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Like the Dis Masters, rest in peace Mike Ski |
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Part time hustler, grew to me |
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Divine Sounds, Disco Richie and Shelton D. |
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I take it back what people do for money, money, money, money... |
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[Chorus 2X: Hell Razah] |
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Pay your tides and your offerings |
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This goes out to my niggas in them closed coffins |
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O.G.'s who was coke snorting, on death row, dead men walking |
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And them mothers never had abortions |
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[Killah Priest] |
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I come to bring ya'll ass whippings |
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Rappers, dish y'all disaster, as is written, he is risen |
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With Mack slugs, AK shells, of mask and gloves |
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The May Day Hell, a basket thug |
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And hallow be thy tip, anoint your forehead and empty a clip |
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For the average I spit, and I hold my pen, like a syringe |
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Inject my paper, with the thoughts of a gangster |
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Scene 3, bullets sail through his tuxedo |
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He fall for dead in the corner of the cathedral |
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Doves flock to the ceiling chirping, the murder of a Godfather |
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It's just my version of Tide Turban |
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Rest upon the God stone, |
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Science studies the structures of my jaw bone, |
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It's similar to the great pharaohs |
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But I dealt with the streets and space travel |
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Big Priest from the ace apple |
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[Chorus 2X] |
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[Outro: Killah Priest] |
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See the Offering is... pureness... straight up hip hop |
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That's what I'm giving, you know? |
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Yo, hold up, man, yo, Priest, what happened to peace? |
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Oh, oh yeah... peace, peace, peace, peace, peace.... |
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Words of the Don... Leo Angel... |
