Killah Priest - A Crying Heart

活在当下 制作

Yeah, yeah, my name is Priest

You know what it is man

Here me out there world

What you got on this man?

Big time we gotta get it

What's over there? I go it

Lock that!

Priesthood, knaw'mean?

It's real son, it's real son

I only fucks - with - what's - real

Led he who have sin, sin no more

Tired of kicking the door, shootouts, blood and gang wars

Chainsaws, tied up spouses, cocaine laws

Hawaiian outfits with SKs that bloodstain walls

Till you're losing ounces, niggas see the life that drug game calls

You're crying fountains on the calls, saying, "Please, she's only four"

Pleading the merciless men that murder your kin

Sending you threats over the phone and they murder again

Now you either make the payments or funeral arrangement

Contemplating, federal building put their name in a statement

Poor choices, take this like the gem from the pearl of oysters

Still wet on my tongue, rep where you're from

And your boy just see real niggas respected

Deliver this message to the dumb and the deceased

We all from the streets, made they rest in peace

While I wreck this beat with techniques

Resurrect speech with flows are deep in soul

I tell Ms. Rahman, I'm sorry what happened that evening

But it was Tone; his name came up now we even

And Mr. James I wish I could change, but Todd

Shouldn't of did what he did, you can't blame Rob

And Ms. Stevens, what can I say? A close call

But it wasn't me you visit at the morgue

When they killed Spark that night, my heart went to the right

My chest got tight, that was a hard one to fight

Hood mysteries that no one could figure out

Plain and simple, facts were there

Going through packs of beer

Make me run to the roof; let the Mac off in the air

You was always strapped, gave me dap then threw up the pairs

Like yeah, I missed those years, I dish out tears

Strange dreams at night make me wish you was here

Tommy you should have watched your back

Instead he let them niggas plot and then form an attack

His shots echo, bounced off the building in the ghetto

Mass genocide, inner-city children of the barrel

And Mr. John, I did what I did 'cause of revolution

You're damn near sixty, may you lay next to Newton

The dollar bill, "In God We Trust"

Does God stand for Guns, Oil, & Drugs they gave to us?

I only fucks - with - what's - real

It's project living regardless revolvers are spitting

When drama is lit, guns will get clipped, the mission

No bottles were ribbing, just hollows from Henchmen

Hell swallows us, death follows up

Bullet shells, toddlers get bucked

Black male role models are fucked

The little girls promised the world but tomorrow turn sluts

You either playing basketball or pushing crack in the hall

Or either rap or getting macs out the board

Now what's that, white supremacists?

No rights for immigrants (no rights)

Life imprisonment, some get life sentences

Secret indict, whites swapping with businessmen

We fight militant, keepers of words they're writing Genesis

Black paintist Rome-like the images

This goes to the judges and the senators

I only fucks - with - what's - real