T-bone - Street Preacha lyrics

[T-Bone] My lyrics phat like Don Cartagena, you never seen a Latino rapper pick up the mic and eat MCs like gelatina From the Bay Area down to Argentina I be slangin' the gospel in your crack houses like it was c**aina Mira mija, la firme linya de rao familia No son Gallinas, k**in' them demons is a misdemeanor 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 delivered from 12 years of blazin' Praisin' the Name of Christ, ain't scared to give my life For the One who died on the cross and saved Me when my life was trite, now it's alright God wrote these lyrics, peep the copyright Buildin' an army in a world that's 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 envious rappers wanna bite like a thousand piranhas I bring the heat like a sauna With Cubana mamas from Havana Oye Como Va, when I rock like Santana [Hook] One of the last street preachas left, poet a**a**in [what] Scarface in the flesh, straight out the West Where we ride on the enemies Striptease, pour out liquor for the deceased And jack their car keys [2x] [T-Bone] I stay humble and meek Get on my knees and wash my brethren'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 never be forgiven Ghetto prison is where they livin', so I make incisions Cut to the heart and operate' tell 'em the Son's arisen If you ain't gettin' what I be spittin' Let me grab my weapons Sawed off K.J.V. with 66 clips that are made for hittin' Straight to the heart, we wrestle not against flesh and blood Just to save thugs, blastin' partners with God's love Pump pump you get stucked when I dump Sawed off, the old man get hauled off And that's the way its coming out the West Side Yo, I'm preachin' Jesus Christ crucified [Hook] [T-Bone] What up mama, it's the Rap Papa Don Dadda, the one who used to smoke grama From Nicaragua, sip champaña, in the sauna, hollerin' "¡Ay, caramba!" Now I'm a redeemed hoodlum tellin' em "¡Cristo te ama!" I'm a bring the drama like Tony Montana 'Cause when demons step to me They get cut worse then shrimp at Benihana's Back in the days hittin' weed, smokin' roaches But we ain't no playas [tell 'em why] we some coaches I get ferocious then I bury all you co*kroaches Get bent off the Holy Ghost and take it by the doses I'm super-California-lyrics-expialidocious Bible in my holster, see me on the poster Devil outlined in chalk, I walk the walk and talk the talk Jehovah Nostras Being a Christian's on the day-to-day, forget the half way Can't hardly praise the LORD, then smoke and sip the Alizé Or Tanqueray or you'll get blown up like a hand grenade I ain't afraid, I slit the Devil's throat with my switch blade That's real, dog! [Hook]