As the final days begin, God sends four terrible horsemen *horses neighing*
to reek his vengeance on a sinfull word. The first three bring
conquest to war and famine.
[Intro: Killah Priest]
Yea, yea, yea, yea.
Yea, yea. Fuck that!
(Set it off.) Yea, yea, ya shitted.
Ya in some shit now, son.
It`s on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick.
I`m back! Fuck that shit!
Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e`rything, son.
I`ma prove this shit, right here.
Me and my nigga. What!?
[Movie Sample]
Violence and punishment of enemies.
[Killah Priest]
I give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
I`m a vocalist, nigga, I`m supposed to rip
Last Poet`s told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist
Then I finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick *horses neighing*
What now, nigga? Look at ya talk shit
Just can`t do it, cuz you ain`t got no teeth in ya mouth
And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out
Ya trained all year, in a karate class
And took one second, to put yo` ass in a body bag
>From a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don`t last
I like to pop shit, don`t get me started
I slap y`all mothafuckas like y`all little kids in kindegarten
Squeeze yo` head till yo` kidneys harden
Now watch this, I`ma call my whole mothafuckin squadron
[Movie Sample]
The four horsemen of the apocalypse are among the bible`s
most terrifying figures.
[Killah Priest]
Cuz y`all niggaz is fucked up
and Brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya
I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open
But don`t worry, cuz I`ma stitch ya
With a rusty screwdriver
[Chorus x2: Killah Priest]
Niggaz bop yo` heads to this, real shit
Call up yo` cliques to this, it`s realness
You feel this in yo` streets and village
Spare that new shit, Priest killed it
[Canibus]
Yo, yo, yo
Yo I`m a Macabeast MC and I possess the ability
To run at top speed without bendin my knees
I destory shit...
[Movie Sample]
The fourth horsemen is the most frightening of them all.
[Canibus]
...wrap my hands around ya neck region
Then I start squeezin `til ya stop breathin
You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues
I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs
Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain
You`ll probably never walk ever again
Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff
Pull you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch
Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the Iron Fist
You can`t rhyme bitch, the one triple nine`s mine bitch
The pain`ll make ya voice change octaves
>From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
We judge MC`s by they lyrical fitness
And punish DJ`s for puttin corny stickers on they mixes
Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures
You`ll be scared to leave the club wit us
You stratch my back, I`ll scratch your`s bitch
I`ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood
The four horsemen on the back of four quadropeds
Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas!
*horses neighing*
