[Intro: k**ah Priest]
Yea, yea, yea, yea
Yea, yea - f** that!
I'm set it off - yea, yea, ya sh**ted
Ya in some sh** now, son
It's on now, motherf**ers can s** my dick
I'm back! f** that sh**!
Ready to eat n***as up, beat they a** and e'rything, son
I'mma prove this sh**, right here
Me and my n***a - what!?
[k**ah Priest]
The emperor, chief sinister, street minister
Guarenteed in two bars to finish ya
React like a cat when he arches back
Give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, n***a, 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
What now, n***a? Look at ya, talk sh**
Can't do it, cuz 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 cla**
It took one second, to put yo' a** 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**, don't get me started
I slap y'all motherf**ers like y'all little kids in kindergarten
Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this, I'mma call my whole motherf**in squadron
And tell n***as to just start robbin
Cuz y'all n***as is f**ed up
And Brooklyn n***as is really ready to get ya
I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
But don't worry, cuz I'mma stitch ya, with a rusty screwdriver
[Hook: k**ah Priest]
n***as bop yo' heads to this, real sh**
Call up yo' clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new sh**, Priest k**ed it
Y! n***as bop yo' heads to this, real sh**
Call up yo' clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' streets and village
Spare that new sh**, 'bus k**ed 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**, pin-point asteroids in orbit
Then, hurl n***as thousands of miles an hour, towards it
f**in heathen, 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 s** the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
You'll probably never walk ever again
n***a, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff
Put you in a horsemen heimlich til I break ya spine, b**h
Stop cryin b**h, before I hit ya wit the Iron, b**h
You can't rhyme b**h, the one triple nine's mine b**h
The pain'll make ya voice change octaves
From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we k** 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**hes for askin for our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the club wit us
You scratch my back, I'll scratch your's b**h
I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya s** 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 quadripeds
Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, motherf**ers!
(There it is!) So bop ya heads to that, uh (There it is!)
[Hook]
[Outro: k**ah Priest]
f**in p**y emcee's, gon' get a shot in the eye
Y'all n***as talk behind n***a's backs
Y'all n***as better bop ya mothaf**in heads before we blow it off
Ya f**in perfume missin idiots
Y'all n***as always runnin, go run and tell that
Go on, runnin, run behind somebody's back
Run and tell that and take these f**in slugs wit ya
We gon' get ya mothaf**in clown
Yea...