[Intro: k**ah Priest] Yo, yo, what up, son? Yeah Get your weed and your Hemeken It's melodic, yo, yo, who got a stogie on them? Priest, I'm dropping the k**ah Beloved, the beloved, beloved brothers come on [k**ah Priest] When doves cry, doobie fly 'Cooley High' school kids watching 'White Shadow' My favourite character was Coolidge Movies slides the shots in the car chase My favourite was Al Pacino in 'Scarface' Cool like De Niro in 'Casino' Old Mob tapes it made my heart break When Fredo ratted out on his brother Michael 'Godfather II' we replayed the Don's drama in school Article II; my sixteens are like - Billion dollar budget movie scene on big screens Al Green is doing my themes From off the Greatest Hits which is my favourite disc Play it, it skips, the screen burns from a tiny brown hole in the center Both pop is the picture, I learn the handle bars on the mic Before I handlebars on the bike, I hold it tight Drug dealer's homage, empty promises and knowledge's Broken dreams, smoking fiends lying on the roofs Some are nodding with the belts tied around their arms Out cold, pipes still in their palm A household about five, the nightfall gone To roam the streets around Section 8 Here's my Offering pa** around collection plates [Chorus: k**ah Priest] The dream's dream, melodic flow governed by Kings Wings of the Phoenix birds take up my words They peck 'em down to the compound Observe, refers as master [k**ah Priest] Stainless gla** windows of ancient black negros on my casement My visitors - Thug n***az hopping out off spaceships Like "Whutup Priest" we just swerved and caused your spectrum, word Had Armani space suits, holding two bad alien birds Saying "Neek neek neek" translated means "Where is the Earth" He f**ed the green b**h, I took the blue one Up in some alien p**y, n***az say "That gruesome" Yells one of my dawgs, just came home from Mars He was up in his bar where this lizard b**h was stripping Bugging, like we acid tripping Addicts in my vision, the scene turns like its 'Claudine' James Earl Jones, hot combs over stoves Dutch hair grease, a rare piece of footage Hood clips, narrated and composed by the Priest Curtains closed on the streets 'The Score' is done by the poor, but the pure n***az [Chorus] [Hell Razah] Hand writings on the project wall Spray painted in the modern day purest form on black uniforms You might need a crack-head that made it to translate it He could tell you who was f**ing with broads and who's related But you gotta know the ghetto pa**word so he could say it In the hood we turn throwing up signs into a language Rather blue steel stainless, guns we gon' buy 'em Riots we gon' start 'em, f** it they got problems Throw me some more, crush grapes in my cup Its envy and lust, so automatic semis we clutch To David Ruff, we carve knives out of elephant tusk Eleven of us and build about the Angels and God we trust [Chorus] [Outro: k**ah Priest] Yeah, (That's right) The Offering (That's how you lay it down) Given, Melodic (Take the fitted, cover you eyes) light the candles up Melodic slow you know what I mean? (Take the hood; throw it over your head) Let the war crawl over you head (That's right, Priest!) More money smoke it up, let 'me know (That's right, The Offering, uh) Hit another one, you know what I mean? The Offering... Struggling, uh, that's how we do it man, (That's right) We camouflage all the time n***a Even in our f**ing tuxedo's, we stay camouflaged n***a La-da-di-da-da... Uh, yeah, we back n***a, uh, yeah Pa** around the collection plate motherf**ers, the AK The End of the world, the End of the World This is how we live in the background