Luyện nghe bài hát Priesthood

* the forthcoming "a view from masada"

[movie
*horses
As the final days begin, God four terrible horsemen *horses neighing*
To reek his 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 some now, son.
It's on now, can suck my dick.
I'm back! that shit!
Ready to eat niggaz up, beat ass and e'rything, son.
I'ma prove this shit, here.
Me and my nigga. what!?

sample]
Violence and of enemies.

priest]
I give a fake 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 explosive
Then I ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing*
What now, nigga? at ya talk shit
Just can't do it, you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a class
And took one second, to put yo' ass in a bag
>from a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties last
I like to pop shit, get me started
I y'all mothafuckas like y'all little kids in kindegarten
Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys
Now watch this, i'ma call my mothafuckin squadron

[movie
The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the
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 worry, 'cause i'ma stitch ya
a rusty screwdriver

[chorus x2: priest]
Niggaz bop yo' to this, real shit
Call up yo' cliques to this, it's
You feel this in yo' and village
Spare that new shit, killed it

Yo, yo, yo
Yo I'm a mc and I possess the ability
To run at top speed bendin my knees
I shit...

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

...wrap my hands around ya neck
Then I start squeezin ya stop breathin
You is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
I the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow physical frame could never sustain
You'll probably never walk again
Nigga, you think you rhyme I leave you lyin stiff
Pull you my horse til I break ya spine, bitch
cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the iron fist
You rhyme bitch, the one triple nine's mine bitch
The pain'll ya voice change octaves
>from to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
We judge mc's by lyrical fitness
And punish for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the wit us
You stratch my back, I'll scratch your's
I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my
I got an sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to ya crimson-colored blood
The horsemen on the back of four quadropeds
four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
*horses