Rise

(Killah Priest)

My rhyme, pen and king recognition dominion over false kindred's

The talk of women, brought from the star system

Dynamic emergence, wordsmith within his turban

Tats of the Virgin, power of planets emerging

Back from hell's furnace, born again, torn from sin

Broke the spell out of my shell, call the hermit

We're twirling books like Merlin within the firmament

The perfect balance, I hold my chalice

Accept ya challenge, I won't budge

Hardwood thugs with hammers and Timb boots and gloves

Woven the greatness, flowing with blood

That's just the basics, after I spit you'll see the Matrix

My heart restored with war, my grape's the realness

My wine of pillage, sip between lines made of pillars

Under his feet the word "Killah"

So print this out of ya data zone

Priest returns home, battle-zone *****!

Surrounded by a sculpture of women

Antisocial when I wrote this rhythm

The vultures got in them, gave us hope at the ending

Game is sour like the Pope of a lemon

My hand's a gram; I put **** in each sentence

Energize rhyme, electromagnetic genetics

With writing esoteric, y'all could see the signs

I did what I could do, from the animal woods environment

The hood to analyze it, y'all could see the God designing

Deep minded, I stay rooted, sage music

Plus strokes of touch, your ghost hugs and shows

They love it yo, I do it for the souls, c'mon!

Raps raise the blood pressure

Customize rhymes to fit ya mind size

Difference between suicide notes or love letters

The light between my eyes enterprise

Rid you of mental waste toxins in ya doctrine

This oxygen is space

While ya head blows I pop ya face

Take loads off ya mind and do lunge

A newer army, flood the world like tsunamis

The greatest gift, from dark towers, Excalibur

He's down, now who's the next challenger?

That's when death surrounds ya

Desert Eagle peck ya by the silencer

Indirectly, diary, words are fiery

Thru the eyes of Reed, thru a tube there's I.V. creating magic

In some minutes or some seconds on a record

In the sentence my pen wand shoots stars out of measure

P's God, I rhyme, cause pressure

Mind's the treasures they call me water-head

It's Priest again y'all Walter's dead

Nah, it's Walter again y'all, Priest is on his death bed

Who knows which way it goes, let's call him Priesthood instead