Woorden: Killah Priest. I Killed The Devil Last Night. The Book.

[Killah Priest:]
From black planets I fell from space
Thru a neon cloud, to touched down created a Nephilim race
Chased my bad spirits, six wizards captured me
Hid me in the village
Durin' the earlier periods where I crafted my lyrics
Assassins will hear it, paid by the Popes of the Vatican
Lightning flash, it was grim
They wanna put daggers in my skin
Soon as I grab the pen
What would I reveal that they're scared of?
I guarded it like bear cubs
In this war, it's all fair and love
Their Cardinals were arguin' in front of the dragon statue made of marble
They wanted the novel of the Street Apostle
The thieve gospel, what was in the book that had 'em all nervous?
What was the purpose? They gon' on a serious of murders
Grey smoke raise outta the bullet holes thru the Stained Glass
Held by six ceremonial dressed Presidents, Rabbi's and Arabs

[Hook: x2]
Our Father, who art in Heaven
I will be thy Name, thy kingdom come
I must bring out guns in the name of thy son
And the Holy Spirit make my enemies feel it

[Killah Priest:]
Raised around killers in lobbies with sick smiles
With nines in their belts that'll shift crowds
Weed smoke turn to thick clouds
Shorties do the weather report
OG's sip Crown, in this grave is where the rhymes are made
Crimes engraved, in the brains of the adolescence
Adults pressin' charges
Regardless if they wasn't raised by their fathers
Deadbeat daddies, in the street wearin' khakis
Hangin' off their asses, 40's in their hands
Shorty is gon' be a man, you in ya 40's, no money in ya pants
Is this what they're really afraid off, or all of the above?
An Intelligent Thug, gun to the president's mug
Take it in blood, niggas hatin' on the love
Back shootin', crabs in the barrel
I stir the soup till it's brewin'
Pour the whole barrel in, this is when the battle'll end
Passion of my pen, craftsman with the lens
Or is it the injustice of our Government?
Spit 48 bars of coverage, Ark of the Covenant
This art has my blood in it

[Hook x2]

[Killah Priest:]
Flames of brim pebbles, stream of fire
I drain the tires screechin' off next to a corpse in the streets of New York
The dead corpse get up and talk
Warnin' me off the brothers in my own fort
Suddenly my bedroom turns into a court
The corpse turns into a judge
The judge stares across at a jury that found me guilty
A misjudge of character; I was embarrassed of my action
Cause... I thought I was supposed to be friends, count my blessings
The Counsel in question, mount of confessions
At the time of the arrestin', they said I was finished
My time is past, but with my bare hands I grabbed onto the grass
Pullin' myself, now all I needed was Brooklyn's help
Begin kickin' paragraphs that the hoodlums had felt
They begin openin' the Bibles that they took from the shelf
Pray for them, that they despitefully use you
I stepped back, start examinin' who's who?
They said I had a head full of loose screws
Priest! I kick the flows that'll scrape the new school
Blood in my vein, it's runnin' true blue
How did I know? They make it known in my dream
It could be somebody in your own team
That wanna pull the throne from underneath
I slid, under my sheets, still asleep
Everything I was shown was deep

[Hook x2]