T-bone - Last Street Preacha lyrics

[T-Bone] My lyrics phat like Don Cartagena, you never seen a Latino Rapper pick up the mic and eat MC's like gelatine From the Bay area down to Argentina I be slangin the gospel in crack houses like it was cocina Mira mija, la firme linya de rao familia No son Gallinas, k**in them demons is a misdemeanah So we ain't scared of y'all, we lived above the law Now we got pimps, addicts, thugs And these hustlas at the altar call Prayin, sayin thing like forgive me for my evil ways then Get off their knees and be delievered from 12 years of blazin Praisin tha Name of Christ, ain't scared to give my life away For the one who died on the cross and saved Me when my life was triff, now its alright God wrote these lyrics, peep the copyright Buildin an army in a world that dark, so we can bring the light Raisin veteranos Cristianos that we call hermanos Deadly like rattle snakes but worse when mics are in our manos In my cara, no dicen nada, puro Amenasadas Wack envyous rappers wanna bite like a thousand paranhas I bring tha heat like a thousand sauna Filled wit Cubana mammas from Havana Oye como va, when I rock like Santana [Chorus] One of the last street preachas left, poet a**asin [what] Scarface in the flesh, straight ou the west Where they ride on their enemies Striptease, pour out liqour for tha diseased And jack for car keys [2x] [T-Bone] I stay humble and meak Get on my knees and wash my brethern's feet You quick to speak and judge, I quick to turn the other cheek Forgive my foes, 479 times and add 11 Just to equal 70 times 7, Rap Reverend Preachin, sermons to those thugs livin k**in, sinnin, feelin that they can be forgiven Ghetto prison is where they livin, so I make incisions Cut to the heart, then operate tell em tha sons Arizon If you ain gettin what I be spittin Get me grab my weapons Sawed off K.J.V. wit 66 bullets made for hittin Straight to the heart, we wrestle not against flesh and blood Saved thugs, blastin thugs wit God's love Pump pump you get stucked when I dump Sawed off, the old man get's hualed off And thats the way its comin out the west side Yo I'm preachin Jesus Christ crucified [Chorus] [T-Bone] What up mamma, its that Rap Papa Don Dadda, the one who used to smoke grama From Nicaragua, sip champana, hollerin ay caramba Now Ima redeemed hoodlum tellin em Cristo te ama Ima bring the drama like Tony Montana Cuz when demons step to me They get cut worse then shrimp at BenniHannas Back in the days hittin weed, smokin roaches But we ain't no playas, tellin why, we some coaches I get ferocious then I bury all you co*kroaches Get bent of the Holy Ghost and take it by the doses A super-california-lyricist-p-alidocious Bibles in my holsters, seen me on the posters Devil outlined in chalk, I walk the walk and talk the talk Jehovah knows this Being a Christians on a day 2 day forget the half way Cant holler praise the LORD, then smoke and sip the alizay Or tangaree or you'll get blown up like a hand gernade I ain't afraid, I slit the devil's throat wit my switch blade [Chorus]