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Текст песни Killah Priest - Turn Around

Killah Priest - Turn Around слова песни

[Intro: Killah Priest]Yeah, uh-huh, back againThe Priesthood, yeah, brought itWe up in here now, it`s time to eatGotta look at myself, want ya`ll to turn aroundWatch this, yo[Chorus 4X: sample]Turn around, every now and thenI get a little bit lonelyYou`re never coming back..[Killah Priest]Alone and thinkin`, zonin`Then I pick up my ink pen and hold itLike the bullet that went in, they blinkin`, I`m frozenStuck between time, the pass and the presentFrom early adolesence, to fiends that`s crashin` and beggin`A pad is my blessin` with it, I`m addin` my lessons, so vividThrough life, things I`ve done wrong, and do rightI had a few nights, of comin` in drunk, fightin` with punksAt club, writin` to front, stomp it with glovesCats pumpin` they drugs on Ave., I jumped in the cabHead to the lab, grab my pen and my pad, feel the wind draftDump the insensce ash inside the hour glassWatchin` it slowly slippin` as I drift in the pastWatchin` the secret sands, remind me the extinction of manIf we don`t unite, I`ll think of plansThe king is a hand, the handwriting`s on the wall of the project hallsIn graffiti, written like swahiliAll harmonic, Priest is like a god when he speaksPlants his feet on the ground, wore the crownAll of ya`ll turn around, baby[Chorus 4X w/ ad-libs][Killah Priest]My verse runs deep like smack through a veteran`s veinSee cats on the train beggin` for changeNeed medicine for they pain, I`m in heavy rainSweat testin` my aim, carve in my bullets with the president`s nameDestined to reign, feel guns bust while cats discussAbout the gats they bust, and loyalty among employeesThe more weed, the more they mind`s stay freedThe more the nines get squeezed, the more the crime leadsThe more they blind me, push that light far behind meI seeked ashanti`s and monks in the hills, I dwelled months for realNo deal, but still hold the steelSometimes I spaz out, pull my pad outThen my pad sprouts to a crackhouse, filled with drug dealersSome thugs, some killers, my pen`s a paintbrushColorin` the old school cats with gangstasFor every word that I print on paperIs like a proverb from a prince in Asia[Chorus to fade w/ ad-libs]

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