Luyện nghe bài hát Priesthood

* from the forthcoming "a from masada"

[movie
*horses
As the final days begin, God sends four terrible *horses neighing*
To his vengeance on a sinfull word. the first three bring
to war and famine.

[intro: killah
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Yea, yea. that!
(set it off.) yea, yea, ya shitted.
Ya in shit now, son.
on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick.
I'm back! fuck shit!
Ready to eat niggaz up, they ass and e'rything, son.
I'ma prove shit, right here.
Me and my nigga. what!?

sample]
Violence and of enemies.

[killah
I give a rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, nigga, I'm to rip
Last poet's told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my fist
Then I finish ya off with my horse-kick *horses neighing*
now, nigga? look at ya talk shit
Just do it, 'cause you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya all year, in a karate class
And one second, to put yo' ass in a body bag
>from a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya don't last
I like to pop shit, get me started
I y'all mothafuckas like y'all little kids in kindegarten
yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this, call my whole mothafuckin squadron

[movie
The four horsemen of the are among the bible's
Most figures.

[killah
'cause y'all niggaz is up
And brooklyn niggaz is really to get ya
I know how to hit ya, and cut ya
But don't worry, 'cause i'ma ya
a rusty screwdriver

[chorus x2: killah
bop yo' heads to this, real shit
Call up yo' to this, it's realness
You feel this in yo' and village
Spare new shit, priest killed it

Yo, yo, yo
Yo I'm a mc and I possess the ability
To run at top speed without my knees
I shit...

[movie
The fourth horsemen is the most of them all.

...wrap my hands around ya neck
Then I start squeezin ya stop breathin
You weaklins is tug-of-war wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame never sustain
probably never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you rhyme I leave you lyin stiff
you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch
Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the fist
You can't rhyme bitch, the one nine's mine bitch
The make ya voice change octaves
>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we a hostage
We judge mc's by they lyrical
And punish dj's for corny stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for for our autograph and pictures
You'll be to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back, I'll scratch bitch
I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my
I got an atomic sub, armed wit a scud
Ready to spill ya crimson-colored
The four on the back of four quadropeds
Puttin four hoof on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
*horses