Luyện nghe bài hát Priesthood

* the forthcoming "a view from masada"

sample]
*horses
As the days begin, God sends four terrible horsemen *horses neighing*
To reek his on a sinfull word. the first three bring
to war and famine.

[intro: priest]
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Yea, yea. that!
(set it off.) yea, yea, ya shitted.
Ya in shit now, son.
It's on now, can suck my dick.
I'm back! fuck 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.

[killah
I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I 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 finish ya off with my tremendous *horses neighing*
What now, nigga? at ya talk shit
can't do it, 'cause you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya just of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a class
And took one second, to put yo' ass in a bag
a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don't last
I to pop shit, don't get me started
I y'all mothafuckas like y'all little kids in kindegarten
Squeeze yo' till yo' kidneys harden
Now watch this, i'ma call my whole squadron

sample]
The horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bible's
terrifying figures.

[killah
'cause niggaz is fucked up
And brooklyn niggaz is really to get ya
I how to hit ya, and cut ya open
But don't worry, 'cause stitch ya
With a rusty

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

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

sample]
The fourth horsemen is the most of them all.

...wrap my around ya neck region
Then I start squeezin ya stop breathin
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya
I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya
Hit ya wit a blow your frame could never sustain
You'll never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you sick? I leave you lyin stiff
you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch
Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the iron
You can't rhyme bitch, the one nine's mine bitch
The pain'll ya voice change octaves
>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every we kill a hostage
We judge mc's by they fitness
And punish dj's for 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 your's bitch
I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my
I got an sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
to spill ya crimson-colored blood
The four horsemen on the back of four
Puttin hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
neighing*