Crooked I - Halos lyrics

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Crooked I - Halos lyrics

[Verse 1-Hell Razah] Knock, knock, who is it? I'm back, stop the gimmicks I pop pop the biscuit and shut down your businesses They wanna white-wash scan-copy my image While I became a menace cause I found my limits Spit it, open up the Book of Life and see my name in it Same sentence, sure my wagers are d**h if I ain't live it Ask the Lord for forgiveness of sins that I committed Even Solomon predicted, you can't die with your riches Of course, no pillow talk when you lie with them b**hes Each verse be worth money like Egyptian pictures It got worse since the Bush's took that torch from Hitler Pour out liquor for my dead comrades, I ain't forget ya, man A lot of s**, but I'm no Caligula I'm livin' Hip Hop, son, you just a visitor A lot of faces and the names are similar I build with the OG's down to superiors, yeah [Hook-Vocal samples] "Fight the system" "Got a precinct with the po-po" "Bust your pistol" "Seekin' five-O" "Fight the system" "Got a precinct with the po-po" "Bust your pistol" "Seekin' five-O" Yo, this how we do it, man Crooked I, where you at, baby? [Verse 2-Crooked I] I sit in the dark with my dead homies, obituary pictures They talk to me while I'm writin' these literary scriptures Sayin', "Crooked, don't let the Police Military get ya" I tell 'em, before they do I'll be in a cemetery wit ya Militant momma, she was down with the Panthers Picture me, a baby G in a dashiki and Pampers I was the face of the pamphlets man, the black future But nowadays, n***as gat shoot ya, f** it, I clap rugers My nina singin' like Fat Luther Vandross, a damn boss bringin' that braat-braat to ya COB is a religion, listen I'm in it Everything I'm spittin' was written wit hidden symbolism in it Infinite wisdom hittin' the intricate sentences I'm spittin' Cryptic as hieroglyphics, thought they figured it, but they didn't West Coast Pharaohs, k**ers on the payroll 20's on my chariot, dodgin' blue halos Hey yo, ya feel me out there? Wha**up, Razah Momma raised a Hell Razah [Hook-Vocal samples] "Fight the system" "Got a precinct with the po-po" "Bust your pistol" "Seekin' five-O" "Fight the system" "Got a precinct with the po-po" "Bust your pistol" "Seekin' five-O" [Verse 3-Hell Razah] In this modern-day era, we be in terror, black Che Guevara's On wax we like anthrax wrapped in a letter My Beretta is for the slaves with forgotten graves Like the names of Dred Scott, we aimin' wit head shots Wit scopes and red dots on old prejudice cops Who plot on dope blocks with coke measurement drops It's more d** to schools for kids wit no pops My hood be like a cemetery They gave a project tombstones and sanctuaries This for the kids outside that's in the military No matter black or Israeli, they both want us buried It's a war outside, I hope you gettin' ready Get off your celly and stand up and grab a semi- Automatic, cause momma raised a Hell Razah like Makaveli I'd like to pour out some Holy Water For all the thug angels we been missin' [Outro-Excerpt from The Boondock Saints] "One day you will look behind you and you will see we three... And on that day, YOU WILL REAP IT!" "We will send you to whatever God you wish." "And shepherds we shall be, for thee, oh Lord, for thee Power hath descended forth from Thy hand That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command So we shall flow a river forth to Thee And teeming with souls shall it ever be In Nomeni Patri, Et Fili, Spiritus Sancti."