Get Lifted - Killah Priest, Shabaam Sahdeeq, Tru-Mac

My pad’s an art gallery of harsh reality

Pictures of niggaz within the scriptures with the same style as me

Christ had his disciples, Priest has his posse

But did they swing box cutters in gutters and blow trees in lobby’s?

Nah, theres for Bethlehem puff the wild irish grand

Till he told him that his hours at hand

Fuck that my last suppers at Benny Hanna’s

A strip club wit sick thugs throwin plenty dollars

Ice chain the Dice game wit the Semi Revolver

My passion is of the hood life, gangsters and killers

Niggaz represent the struggle sayin Priest we feel ya'

These the Paintings of a Saints wings, the Lucifer horns

Shootouts and stabbings the youth is all gone (feel me)

We get shit lifted niggas

Roll a spliff take a sip a the liquor

Spark the coke now I’m definately wit’cha

We get shit lifted nigga

I move through the smog of the city life

Blend with the grimy gritty type we make moves at night

Got a kite from my scrap he about to touch down

We spent a yard up north and walk the block in the town

Travel at the speed a sound

A moving target’s hard to hit, thats why I keep it moving kid

Paint a picture without a brush I put my life on sketch

Every line is pain and my love is intricate

Drink liquor till the bottle hollow, Thankful to see tomorrow

Thankful to see my man we gotta continue the plans

Grands upon grands is what we trying to stack

And there aint no turning back unless the guns pointed at me

Dog I caught a hole in my back

I guess thats payback for all the dirt I did in the past

I seen life pass before my eyes in a flash

I been caged up wishing I could be on the ave

I been in a dorm, wishing I could be in the lab

My loyalty is priceless, my heart is genuine

You gain a driving force if you got me as a friend

I blow ganja smoke in the air for all my dead kin

And I vow till my boy pow wow will win

Tru sippin Liquor again wit the blicker again

Fresh out the dugout watch the picture begin

On the mound striking em out, snipen em out

All the new birds you heard how I’m pipen em out?

Born a great, Tru-Mac will storm ya state

I ain’t sprung like T-Pain when I fornicate

I’m psycho call me Norman Bates

Try to Ice Grill me, I’ma fit ya George Foreman plate

Quiet down or I"ll cause a Riot now

Time to set up shop on the block and tie it down

Stacks is flippin, Warning my ratchet spittin

On attack for all of you cats thats snitchin

My logic’s focused who gossip hopeless

Ima stomp on cats, backs like ugh, project roaches

Running game like Vince Young through the goaline

Killin kids like them dudes in that coal mine