Hard Times

[killah priest]

The prophecies of a poor man end on a train

Take his last breath

Slumps over drops his last bit of change

A mother pacing by her window pane

Staring hopeless at the gentle rain

When the messenger returns telling her

That her child was slain

She reaches for his picture frame

Open up the good book read the scriptures

And sighs his name

The skies full of flames

Streets are gothic

Twelve niggaz lay dead in front of their projects

Reminding d's of a classic mob hit

Bitches gossip, about they men being targets, or suspects

Niggaz in the lab taking golden seal

For tomorrows drug test

Scared niggaz hugging they techs

Don't want to get plugged next

Outside there's a bloodfeast

We all product, faced with hard luck

Since the wrath of God struck

Now we like "yo tone let me borrow a buck"

He like "yo what the fuck"

Niggaz was born to be skeletons

Or was it the curse of this dark melanin

When I die will I open my eyes in hell again

With these jealous men

Lord forgive me but I smell a gin

On the lips of winos

Sent a plaque turned 'em all into albinos

With horns coming from their foreheads like rhinos

Read it in my last testament and my hidden scrolls

See my icon straight faced with a torn robe

A beard and some cornrows

The whole globe hears when I perform my shows

[chorus 2x: killah priest]

We go from hard times to part-times

From part-time back to hard times

That's the start of crime

Till the day we see the father shine

Light on us, trying to warn us

We play the corners

[killah priest]

I visit monasteries

Where dons were buried

Approached the bench with teary eyes

Tryin to con the jury

Christ said those of you without sin, cast the first stone

Those of you without ends, blast the first chrome

Is it the prophecies of deuteronomy

That drove us to this poverty?

Trapped with starvin seeds

Fightin for sovereignty

Cold nights make the toddler freeze

Blood over my wallabies

Raining mahogany

Here's a dollar for the trees

We worship weed like idolatry

Silly bitches with conniving thoughts

Sticking knives and folks

Don't understand what it's like to be a black man in court

Niggaz up screamin all night

Complaining that their handcuffs are too tight

Kicking on the cell till they cut out the lights

It's like a curse

Walk besides white women they start holding they purse

I just ask you for the time bitch

What you got anyway? some of the indians turf

The beauty that once flowed from the nile

Like the moses child

The hand that writes is a good as the hand that holds the plow

[chorus]

[killah priest]

Some say the spirit of a dead angel lies within me

Look in my eyes, they're empty

Poverty stricken beaten with the rod ol envy

Lurking through the shadows of death

Dragging my wings, saw the image of a beast

Ram, dragon and queen, heard the bragging of kings

Whose laughter was as bitter as a scorpion sting?

Forced in the ring with idiots so many cliques

Letting out automatic clips

A dead lady combing the hair of a bastard bitch

I spit graphic shit you ain't hear half of it

From my fucked up marriages

To dealing with miscarriages

From drinking with savages

Driving hazardous

I'm here today to meet the man from nazareth

Where's the pastor? show me where that chapter is

[chorus 2x]