Текст песни Gotta Eat - Killah Priest
Masada
2000
[ Verse
1 ]
My
.44
calicol
will
silence
y′all
souls,
masada
The
ghost
of
the
most
prolific
writer
Upon
my
death
bed
in
roast
in
fire
See
my
most
desires
Smell
the
smoke
from
my
flesh
as
my
ghost
rise
up
Hear
the
voices
of
100
choirs
And
angels
looking
down
at
my
body
attached
to
wires
Priest
kissed
by
the
widow
spider
that
spit
saliva
I
write
for
lifers
and
boxers
at
rikers
I
write
pain
Blue
ink
replaced
the
blood
in
my
veins
Thug
in
this
game,
flooded
up
rings
Cluttered
up
change,
quick
to
pop
a
slug
in
your
brain
If
you
a
killer,
then
slugs
we
exchange
We
like
the
mobsters,
bullet
shells
and
choppers
Cop
cars
and
road
blockers,
they
tryin
to
knock
us
Catch
us
duck
behind
the
bitches,
d's
tryin
to
pop
us
On
cbs
news
while
the
world
watch
us
[ Chorus
]
I
do
this
shit
for
my
thugs
I
do
this
shit
for
the
chicks
at
the
club
I
do
this
shit
for
the
niggas
that
I
love
I
do
this
shit
for
the
streets,
cause
a
nigga
gotta
eat,
luv(2x)
[ Verse
2 ]
I
write
theories
that′s
motion
pictures,
y'all
hear
me?
I
spit
it
clearly
to
roast
y'all
niggas,
feel
me?
Gangster,
life
of
a
don
my
icon
Sling
on
my
right
arm,
rubber
grip
tight
in
my
left
arm
Body
suited
with
teflon,
it′s
brooknam
Raise
a
eyebrow
at
the
child,
respectfully
bow
Pay
hommage,
gold
studs
in
my
garment
Hot
slugs
miss
me
cause
I′m
god-sent
If
it
hit
me,
it's
god′s
wish
No
man
taketh
a
life,
I'm
late
in
the
night
Catch
me
in
the
hood
shakin
the
dice
Contemplatin
a
heist
Some
say
my
team
is
satan′s
alike
Cartel,
pop
shells
till
our
heart
fails
Brooknam,
a.k.a.
roswell
Clappin
at
the
spaceship
Bitches
with
fake
tits
At
nightclubs
We
live
the
life
of
a
true
thug
[ Chorus
]
[ Verse
3 ]
I
feel
a
holy
spirit
comin
on
me
My
lifestyle:
based
on
a
true
story
Read
the
credits:
name
appears
alphabetic
On
clear
film
with
no
edits
Masada
bleedin
in
the
hands
of
medics
Priest,
I
live
it
epic
Spoke
on
records,
majestic
Physique:
I
stand
six
feet
Observe
my
posture,
my
click's
deep
Director′s
edition,
just
listen
The
words
breathe
on
my
sheet,
I
write
a
novel
Speak
on
behalf
of
every
slain
apostle
My
slang's
hostile,
say
my
name
as
gospel
Masada,
pop
2 through
the
confession
booth
Don't
say
nothin,
pull
my
weapon
and
shoot
Bullets
wettin
their
suits
Herut′s
lady
put
death
in
my
shoes
Cats
die
violent
in
war,
silence
the
.4
The
fall
slow
motion,
seen
the
silent
applause
[ Chorus
]
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