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[Movie Sample]
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*horses neighing*
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As the final days begin, God sends four terrible horsemen *horses neighing*
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to reek his vengeance on a sinfull word. The first three bring
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conquest to war and famine.
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[Intro: Killah Priest]
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Yea, yea, yea, yea.
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Yea, yea. Fuck that!
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(Set it off.) Yea, yea, ya shitted.
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Ya in some shit now, son.
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It's on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick.
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I'm back! Fuck that shit!
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Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e'rything, son.
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I'ma prove this shit, right here.
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Me and my nigga. What!?
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[Movie Sample]
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Violence and punishment of enemies.
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[Killah Priest]
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I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
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I'm a vocalist, nigga, I'm supposed to rip
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Last Poet's told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist
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Then I finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing*
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What now, nigga? Look at ya talk shit
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Just can't do it, cuz you ain't got no teeth in ya mouth
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And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out
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Ya trained all year, in a karate class
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And took one second, to put yo' ass in a body bag
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>From a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don't last
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I like to pop shit, don't get me started
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I slap y'all mothafuckas like y'all little kids in kindegarten
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Squeeze yo' head till yo' kidneys harden
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Now watch this, I'ma call my whole mothafuckin squadron
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[Movie Sample]
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The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bible's
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most terrifying figures.
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[Killah Priest]
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Cuz y'all niggaz is fucked up
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and Brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya
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I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
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But don't worry, cuz I'ma stitch ya
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With a rusty screwdriver
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[Chorus x2: Killah Priest]
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Niggaz bop yo' heads to this, real shit
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Call up yo' cliques to this, it's realness
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You feel this in yo' streets and village
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Spare that new shit, Priest killed it
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[Canibus]
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Yo, yo, yo
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Yo I'm a Macabeast MC and I possess the ability
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To run at top speed without bendin my knees
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I destory shit...
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[Movie Sample]
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The fourth horsemen is the most frightening of them all.
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[Canibus]
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...wrap my hands around ya neck region
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Then I start squeezin 'til ya stop breathin
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You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
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I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
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Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
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You'll probably never walk ever again
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Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff
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Pull you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch
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Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the Iron Fist
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You can't rhyme bitch, the one triple nine's mine bitch
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The pain'll make ya voice change octaves
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>From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
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We judge MC's by they lyrical fitness
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And punish DJ's for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
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Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures
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You'll be scared to leave the club wit us
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You stratch my back, I'll scratch your's bitch
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I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
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I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
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Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood
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The four horsemen on the back of four quadropeds
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Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
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*horses neighing*
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-----------------
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Priesthood
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Killah Priest |