[Intro]
Yeah, speak now son, Priesthood Records
Yeah, uh, yeah, it's bout it, yeah, that's how we do

 [bad word] 
What ya niggaz want? Go get your sets
Make ya pussies want load up my tec
Attacks like Lions, go straight at the neck
Hyena niggaz down, my paws on their chest
Show you canines before we tear in your flesh
Breathing down your face son I can taste your death
I know you're scared now [bad word] I see the sweat
Razor-sharp [bad word] close like Gillette

[Killah Priest]
I Return like the Prodigal Sunn
Ya could rest our argue is done
Rappers scared they're marveled [bad word] 
Problem one; I could see why I'm startling some
Because [bad word] in peace while my apostles have guns
("Son of man is his glory with revolvers to lungs")
Now stand still, witness the god while I rob you for funds
I must say... ("Priest spits with a remarkable tongue")
Now let us see with deep flows the Masada has [bad word] 
Right before I get in my zone, I sit in my throne
Then I lounge, one foot pivot, while I'm spitting my poem
My poetry so vivid it was written in stones
They say "Priest some sort of mystique; he speaks wisdom of unknown"
I'm the poet blindfolded, my queen's palms cover my ears
So when I wrote this intuition was there
My brain's a replica of Mecca
My mind holds the secrets to Egypt
But however, I stay on some street [bad word] 
I write the scrolls on a hundred skulls
My cunning flow's stunning
Is like you're blunt, it has you under control
Mumbling, to yourself while I'm confronting your soul
Priest the deity, meant to [bad word] the globe
Behold a flow out of this world, throwing dollars at girls
Sliding on poles, to diamonds and pearls
Aligning of the Stars, Priest be [bad word] rhyming
My eyelids marked around with black chalk
Like Nas on his album cover I Am...
Like Malcolm my brothers, let's take a stand

(Teacher, teacher), The Angel came forth
(Teacher, teacher), holding the scroll giving The Offering
(Tell us more), Said "Say this to the people"

[Killah Priest]
I write street archives with deep dark eyes
My meek hard cries, when I see the murders beneath God's skies
I recorded lose the disc but we keep hard drives
Ask Dreddy, after the flow; show you where bodies are buried
Worries cover the face of Reverend Jesse
Just hold steady, 'bout to drop something old but heavy
Ready, before this rap all I knew was wrapping the grams
Only tracks unknown were the tracks in the arms of Sam
 [bad word] arm was like a pin cushion
Y'all just starting but I've been Brooklyn
Central booking in '91, in the pens with hoodlums
I sit still like I'm Teddy Pendergrass
What picture should I grab?
My rhymes is like his portal I can see in the past
Some say I'm immortal, dark skinned with the staff
Feel me? you'know'what'I'mean?

 [bad word] 

[Outro]
Its real Hip-Hop let me explain something to y'all
This is real Hip-Hop man, y'all been raised off of that [bad word] 
That Offering, that giving, you'know'what'I'mean?
Here y'all could have it, it's for you, uh