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Priesthood lyrics by Canibus

 

Priesthood by Canibus


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. f**k that!
(set it off.) yea, yea, ya sh*tted.
Ya in some sh*t now, son.
It's on now, mothaf**kas can suck my dick.
I'm back! f**k that sh*t!
Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e'rything, son.
I'ma prove this sh*t, 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
I'm a vocalist, nigga, I'm supposed to rip
Last poet's 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 sh*t
Just can't do it, 'cause you ain't 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 don't last
I like to pop sh*t, don't get me started
I slap y'all mothaf**kas like y'all little kids in kindegarten
Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this, i'ma call my whole mothaf**kin squadron
[movie sample]
The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bible's
Most terrifying figures.
[killah priest]
'cause y'all niggaz is f**ked up
And brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya
I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
But don't worry, 'cause i'ma stitch ya
With a rusty screwdriver
[chorus x2: killah priest]
Niggaz bop yo' heads to this, real sh*t
Call up yo' cliques to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new sh*t, priest killed it
[canibus]
Yo, yo, yo
Yo I'm a macabeast mc and I possess the ability
To run at top speed without bendin my knees
I destory sh*t...
[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
You'll 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, b**ch
Stop cryin b**ch, before I hit ya wit the iron fist
You can't rhyme b**ch, the one triple nine's mine b**ch
The pain'll make ya voice change octaves
>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
We judge mc's by they lyrical fitness
And punish dj's for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper b**ches for askin for our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back, I'll scratch your's b**ch
I'll 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, mothaf**kas!
*horses neighing*



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