Holy Prophets ft. Tragedy Khadafi Lyrics

I move like strange forces

Bullet proof courses

Immaculate bosses

Disciples on pale horses

Nemesis

Squeezing a mac

From a black pegasus

The game

Follow my rap lines

Just like a methodist

Rose and holy grails

Guns I'm blowing still

Lines I spread them

Like viruses

Through your mind

I'm ill

Contagion

Biochemical spills most real

I burn the church

Slay the pope so he won't tell

My projects is

Jail cells

Parallel to hell

Behold pale memories

Met the best ones

In places they sent me

This horseman

Remember vividly

Six flat

Little brother

Bring dad to visit me

Stay shining

Handling business

Nonchalant

In front of liars

Chose as states witnesses

Truth rise up

Spork in a cup

Immortal calibration

Unravelling

Propagation

T.V. news stations

Juxtaposed b roll

Drip fed to people

Intravenious salience

Mental I.V. status

Latticework

Fear fakeness and

False hope

Perceived as credible

Hardest things I found

I stumbled on and

Fed it to you

Mistakes equal

What I became

Failings frowned upon

Snakes ravens and stars

Totem my arm

With the scars

Cradle to the grave

Led dayroom

Meditation ciphers

Staring out through

The bars for

Thousands of yards

Riding shotgun with holy prophets

I invade a pond

Yeah I been a don

Never sell out

Like Robert Johnson and viacom

Lines of firearms

Held by a million Saddams

Destroy and conquer

Wash niggazup

Genghis Khan

Fire eventually

Make its way

Flame through hills

To fourth reich wineries

Nothing new under the sun

World disorder

Centuries long slaughter

Mismanagement of water

Stealing the kings daughter

Sons visited by

Sins of the father

My scroll fragments

Not made to order

For new world markets

Kick in your door start it

How you come

Hands on your head

Or fingers inside

Trigger guards of

Your guns of brixton

Actions got to match

Personal convictions

Crucifixion

Iron nails

In the bellies of whales

Deceased demons on the

Faces of all of their bills

The tongue of man kills

And nations get divided

Over a conscience a lot

While your flesh rotten

My ambience

Like Ponce de Leon

Just with a higher conscience

Holdin llamas under both armpits

Screaming jihad

Riding shotgun with holy prophets