Songtext zu 'Streets To The Studio' von Hell Razah

[Intro: Hell Razah (Killah Priest) {Timbo King}]
Yo come here Priest!
(Yo Razah I know you're crazy)
What's good? {Maccabeez}
Maccabeez International (Yo where ya bullets be?)
Saudi Records {Yeah word up Razah, Killah Priest} (You know!)
(Yo this one is gonna be the craziest joint in all the clubs around the way)
M's up (in the United States of America, son)
Yeah... y'all get in ya Mac mode, ya heard?
(Y'all gon' get sick when you hear this... Let's go in on 'em son!)

[Timbo King:]
In the studio...
All these actors now got new reality shows
Why from the streets where reality shows... the last Great Dane
Armageddon power, drink Amaretto Sour
Louie Vatton, camouflage and Eddie Bauers
Ezekial's will, riding down evil's hill
Deceivers will, get ya whole peoples killed
The promise of peace, yeah is nothing but a disguise
I got a piece of pussy right here in front of my eyes
High as a Priest, smoking on his Isaac Hayes
Born in the seventies, Franky Beverly Mays
Nigga who? Jigga boo, we The Maccabeez
Last supper up at Applebys, so break bread with us
Women of all kinds go to bed with us
Runaway slaves escaped and then they fled with us
Repent now or forever burn in flames
I ain't even gotta tell you my name... mother father

[Chorus x2: Hell Razah]
From the streets to the studio, back where the party's at
More haze, more Cognac
Where my ladies is at with them diamonds and Cadillacs
Coats, bags and a hat to match

[Hell Razah:]
In the streets...
Record labels is ya slave owners
So when I spit my shit I be a flamethrower
I ain't Lil' Flip, shorty, but it's 'Game Over'
All these killas in soaps could use a makeover
I've been ready to ride before my baby stroller
So what you hopping out, G5's or Range Rovers?
I be a 'dro roller, white widow chain smoker
Red Coronas, I sip and throw the drink on ya
Or I could spit out a blade and put a shank on ya
See I ain't mad at ya, I'm a get the last laughter (Haha)
Too many wack rappers underneath that mascara
When you meet 'em they broke and they be mad braggers
Talking like they got swagger and they give their A&R jobs to these black crackers
We was crack baggers, y'all niggaz backpackers
Throwing stones at us barking up the wrong ladders
This for y'all chrome grabbers dick-grabbing backstabbers

[Chorus x2]

[Killah Priest:]
They call me Priest, La Shiek, had my freaks
G.D. apparel, six in my barrell, sits like a Pharaoh
Of Egypt, weed lit, mad ho's like I'm Freak Niq
Chicks just come in with their bathrobes
Cowgirl boots, hats and a lasso
She's riding my lap while my finger's in her asshole
Her onion is fat but it's all about that cash though
Cool can't knock her, she said she got her boots from Dockers
And should could move for dollars
But I'm hard as a wood bat, I don't need a good rap
All I need is a hoodrat, this is where you put that
In yo' mouth, on yo' blouse, on yo' floor in yo' house
On yo' couch, when I'm done grab me guns then I'm out
My sixteen bars is automatic ink
My clip release hit y'alls right where you think
Got a scope in my pen, Maccabeez hold me down

[Chorus x2]