Killah Priest - Developing Story | Текст песни

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• Killah Priest
• Developing Story

(Talking)
“Yo, turn that T.V. down. Here’s fifty thousand dollars.”
“Let’s Do this”
“I want him dead”.
“Don’t even worry about it”
“You gonna take him out?”
“Yeah”
Verse
Amongst the heat busting
Weed functions, Street discussions
A fleet coming.
Niggas keep hustling
One rush in
His head blooded
His eyes all wild
The night sky had a devil-like smile
Rain, lightning stabbing at the earth
Which takes us down
To an area where murderers lurk
And burglar’s search
Through bottomless pockets
All alone apartments
A place well known
Controlled by crime and convicts
A place we all familiar with
It’s called the projects
Now take a look at the scene that’s in progress
A black Chevy,
Slowly brewed around the block
Holding four killers
With loaded up glocks
They’re scoping the spots
Their eyes were gauging
The city housing
For areas least the loudest
More-less, least the crowded.
From a distance heard police sirens
Quickly fade to silence
The night air became
Every thug’s greatest challenge
Each assassin wore the face of violence
They found the spot
Then they docked
Each killer never missed their mark
They quietly submarine around the park
Like a shark
Then stole through the dark
Four hooded shadows
High against the cracked walls
In war apparel
These outlaws traveled
Eight silenced feet
Creep upon the back of the lobby door
Where on the other side
Lays all kinds of war
Knives and razors, guns galore
Ones with lasers, crooked strangers
The look of danger
Gangsters and gamblers,
Hustlers, and servers of customers,
Murderers of grandmothers,
And smugglers of grams and others
Blocks away the noisy street murmured
They took out their burners
Perfect time, the moon was fat with murder
They spot two of their crack workers
Playing games of chance
They quickly advance
They stalk, cat-like
Gats tight
Amongst the crack pipes
And scattered dice
The lobby domino with stares
A faint trace of weed fume hung in the air
Each heart played the game of truth or dare
Eyes survey the place for a familiar face
And traps, each clutching their gat,
Cause everybody’s strapped.
They spotted the hit,
Eyes were fixed,
Let the other three know,
This was it.
A smile twitched, ghost-like,
At the corners of his mouth,
Before he shouts the dude’s name out,
The kid slid out.
He crouched as he squeezed the trigger,
Of a sudden, all types of death,
And bleeding Niggas,
Bullets hissing like Rock Snakes
Hands suddenly stopped on a clock of fate
His body rocked away.
“Horrific sight,”
Reporters said; the grizzly murders
Happened last night
Eleven shot, nine pronounced dead
By the meds
For pounds of bread
The rounds of lead
Now souls, dragged down by hounds
Pulling the sled
The sun brought forth the power on the streets,
The newspapers read.

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