Yea, uh huh Charon Don, Hands Down

(Uh, Killah Priest the Iron Sheik, nigga!)

[Charon Don]

Yo, you talking to a serious thug

I get serious love

Even when I stay in the pad

Like period blood experience drugs

Street grudge infamous buzz

Sent from above Devils catch infinite slugs

All my Rebels came from Zion bang with giants

Made from the same grain that you gave the science

Same all violence maintaining

Same all clients, lames deny it

Why you think my brains defy it?

Smoking backwoods in the back woods 'cause I'm that hood

Strap in crack in my back, it could crack wood

Take your life like crack could

An epidemic; created by your government to get extra spinach

Now I'm stressed to spit it

Collect the check to live it

I'm just blessed never pressed by the press

Or critics never the less

Yo my rep is vivid

Homey left with the best get with it

Before it's too late

I can either lose fate or choose to wait

'Cause the new debate is who will choose your fate

And poor people don't make the decision

Poor people just hate to be living

(Chorus) x 2

On the roof puffing cigars look up at the stars

It could be your man fucking your broad

Passing you dust in your car

Calling us the observers

Silent weapons for these quiet murders

Silent weapons for these quiet murders

[Killah Priest]

I lay back shuffling thoughts while puzzling pieces

Guzzling coughs while pressing my features

On my cell, hell, number reads area code '412'

A message from Charon "Priest come through"

Wait a minute that's Pittsburgh

Where niggas twist herb and sip suryp

Flip birds and 'Do Not Disturb' on their door

Every lips are heard better observe

If you don't you get your shit split on the curb

But I'm from New York where crews talk by who got caught

By cops, who got shot? For coming a few short

Bosses talk to bosses 'til they're concealed in the coffin

Surrounded by graveyard mud in crucifixes crosses

To my killas in Boston, my dealers and Oregon

Hands out for the Lord and they reaching for offerings

Angels crouching over us the streets are unable hold us up

We in rat racing and the system is a cobra clutch

Gangsters and Killas, the strangest of niggas

Brushing shoulders with death and you think he's familiar

To killah, straight shots AK pops

Niggas yell "system is hell" mirrors held between bars

Nurses putting vaseline on scars in jail

When we hear sirens coming from cars we bail niggas

Yea, Killah Priest nigga, uh Charon the God

(Chorus) x 2

[Charon Don]

Yo, yo, I'm in the alley way sipping Alizé like I'm out L.A

And you already know what I'm pulling out this spray

Like you already know what I'm about to say

When I flow I blow you best get out the way

Like C-4 sisters wanna see more

Nigga shook like seizures all my triggers seen war

But this ain't gang bang shoot 'em up music

This that P-Town dope-game shoot it up music

From the Burg where dem Steelers is deep

On the curb next to killas and freaks

On the verge I'm ah be killing this beat

Where sermons served from a real Killah Priest

I might, in turn, kill a priest

Charon Don is real as he speaks

You as dumb as a blonde

You can't chill wit the elite

Fo'real, I'm so ill I wrote my will before I sleep

Take a pill before I eat

You still ignore the pork and meat

Be the rich at heart, built a spliff, and spark

Until I get a deal I really can't deal with the charts

I'm in debt, If I'm sent the bill I rip it apart

You impressed, If I get a mil I'm flipping smart

Take it back to the ghetto where they need it the most

Believe it!, I mean it, I'll leave it for the season old folks

For the needy, but never greedy, my ingredients wrote

I'll leave it in quotes, just so it's not a secrete to most

(Chorus) x 2