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Killah Priest f Canibus

Bop Your Head

350 3 часа назад

Текст песни Killah Priest f Canibus - Bop Your Head

Killah Priest f Canibus - Bop Your Head слова песни

[Intro: Killah Priest]Yea, yea, yea, yeaYea, yea - fuck that!I`m set it off - yea, yea, ya shittedYa in some shit now, sonIt`s on now, motherfuckers can suck my dickI`m back! Fuck that shit!Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e`rything, sonI`ma prove this shit, right hereMe and my nigga - what!?[Killah Priest]The emperor, chief sinister, street ministerGuarenteed in two bars to finish yaReact like a cat when he arches backGive a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rapI`m a vocalist, nigga, supposed to ripLast Poet`s told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fistThen I finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kickWhat now, nigga? Look at ya, talk shitCan`t do it, cuz you ain`t got no teeth in ya mouthAnd I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya outYa trained all year, in a karate classIt took one second, to put yo` ass in a body bagFrom a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don`t lastI like to pop shit, don`t get me startedI slap y`all motherfuckers like y`all little kids in kindergartenSqueeze yo` head till yo` kidneys hardenNow watch this, I`ma call my whole motherfuckin squadronAnd tell niggaz to just start robbinCuz y`all niggaz is fucked upand Brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get yaI know how to hit ya, and cut ya openBut don`t worry, cuz I`ma stitch ya, with a rusty screwdriver[Chorus: Killah Priest]Niggaz bop yo` heads to this, real shitCall up yo` clicks to this, it`s realnessYou feel this in yo` streets and villageSpare that new shit, Priest killed itY! Niggaz bop yo` heads to this, real shitCall up yo` clicks to this, it`s realnessYou feel this in yo` streets and villageSpare that new shit, `bus killed it[Canibus]Yo, yo, yoYo I`m a Macabeast MC and I possess the abilityTo run at top speed without bendin my kneesI destory shit, pin-point asteroids in orbitThen, hurl niggaz thousands of miles an hour, towards itFuckin heathen, wrap my hands around ya neck regionThen I start squeezin `til ya stop breathinYou weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tonguesI knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungsHit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustainYou`ll probably never walk ever againNigga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiffPut you in a horsemen heimlich til I break ya spine, bitchStop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the Iron, bitchYou can`t rhyme bitch, the one triple nine`s mine bitchThe pain`ll make ya voice change octavesFrom low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostageWe judge MC`s by they lyrical fitnessAnd punish DJ`s for puttin corny stickers on they mixesSmack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and picturesYou`ll be scared to leave the club wit usYou scratch my back, I`ll scratch your`s bitchI`ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausageI got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scudReady to spill ya crimson-colored bloodThe four horsemen on the back of four quadropedsPuttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, motherfuckers!(There it is!) So bop ya heads to that, uh (There it is!)[Chorus][Outro: Killah Priest]Fuckin pussy emcee`s, gon` get a shot in the eyeY`all niggaz talk behind nigga`s backsY`all niggaz better bop ya mothafuckin heads before we blow it offYa fuckin perfume missin idiotsY`all niggaz always runnin, go run and tell thatGo on, runnin, run behind somebody`s backRun and tell that and take these fuckin slugs wit yaWe gon` get ya mothafuckin clownYea...

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