Luyện nghe bài hát Priesthood

As the final days begin, God sends four horsemen *horses neighing*
To reek his vengeance on a sinfull word. the 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! that shit!
Ready to eat niggaz up, beat ass and e'rything, son.
prove this shit, right here.
Me and my nigga. what!?

[movie
and punishment of enemies.

[killah
I give a fake a heart attack, once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, nigga, I'm to rip
poet's told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist
Then I ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing*
now, nigga? look at ya talk shit
Just can't do it, 'cause you got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a 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 to pop shit, don't 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 whole squadron

sample]
The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the
Most figures.

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

x2: killah priest]
Niggaz bop yo' to this, real shit
up yo' cliques to this, it's realness
You this 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 bendin my
I shit...

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

...wrap my hands around ya region
Then I start squeezin 'til ya stop
You weaklins is playin 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 never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you sick? 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 can't bitch, the one triple nine's mine bitch
The pain'll make ya voice change
>from low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we a hostage
We judge mc's by they lyrical
And punish dj's for puttin corny on they mixes
Smack the bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to the club wit us
You stratch my back, scratch your's bitch
eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to ya crimson-colored blood
The horsemen on the back of four quadropeds
Puttin four hoof on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
*horses