Lyrics Killah Priest

Killah Priest

Witness The King

[Killah Priest]

As my soul gets darker, my guns will spark ya

Greet the night stalker, meet your fate

Bow and pay homage, I rap with a garment

Like one of the profits that's teaching faith

One mistake and your life gets tooken, I'm from Brooklyn

Two blocks over from where Satan lives

Where my niggaz break in cribs and we shake your kids

Turn 'em upside down, "Where that bacon is?"

But we don't kill toddlers, feel the revolver

On the side of the father or the mother

It's time for you to suffer, I kill your brothers

Front and be laying under covers

My rap style smothers, sweet like smuckers

Pull out the heat and you studder, no teeth, just pucker

And kiss my rings, I hit with a sting, the gifts you bring

Witness the king

[Chorus x2: Killah Prirest]

The strongest motherfucker make the world go 'round

If you a weak motherfucker then you best bow down

Show your respect, kneel or you might be next

Pay homage to my rings, and witness the king

[Killah Priest]

Come on

Show gratitude, never attitude

When I start grabbin' tools, your ass is his'

One shot make a nigga turn bitch real quick

Deal with the ruckus, I leave ya in crutches

I shoot ya'll in public, put two through your luggage

The gun to your nugget, run your jewels

I rap for motherfuckers, clapped at motherfuckers

If you don't know then you must be schooled

My flow's bonafied to be a supreme force

Cultivate the rhyme to make a supreme source

Activate the mind, I'm a light that taught

Don't wait for prime time, the fight is off

Witness the king

Chorus x2

[Killah Priest]

Come on

I bet ya'll never heard a rapper like I

Cut to the gut motherfucker, ask why

Once I reply it's the sty 'til I die

Down to the bill, nigga work in the field

Squirtin' the steel, caps get peeled

Cats get killed, wack until I feel it's necessary to get wet in every

Spot from the glock, drop two double oh's

In trouble your souls, three fifty seven mac 10, better

You say never, I say whatever, spraying berettas

Nothing protect ya, tear up your texture

Applyin' that pressure, it's my pleasure

Hit you from your neck up, I want that respect, what!

Chorus x2