Artist: Bronze Nazareth f/ Hell Razah, Killah Priest Album: Thought for Food: Vol. 1 & 2 Song: Millenium Warfare (Premix) Typed by: Cno Evil, DaSun Akbar (Intro) Razah Yeah, Renaissance Child, Priesthood Make sure your turban cover your face Bulgaria (Chorus) Razah 2x Air it out, cock and squeeze, give me some room to breath We be those Huey P's, watching over little seeds Air it out, cock and squeeze, bow, salute the kings This for my Maccabeez, throwing up angel wings [Hell Razah] I pass desert eagles to the last Hebrews Who got knowledge of the good and evil We see through the deceitful Wit eyes like a young Ezekiel The holy people, addicted to a dope needle The prophecy of a black male was crack sales We rebel after hearing Jordan Maxwell So I act like Fidel over Israel All hail to the nephew of Ismael I raise Hell, anywhere, any hood that I dwell Wake up to hearing shootouts and gun smells, burning an L We went from plain-men dwelling in tents, to paying rent In the project that smell like a pissy snake pit Put on your war paint, fatigues and brand new Timbs Get your glocks out the box and let's shoot off limbs And these snakes when they grin in their two-door Benz I'm underground, no spins and I still got wins How many records you gon' make about you sitting on rims? We grown men, better step up your game and drop gems This ain't Mos Def, Kweli, Nas or Common I'm a Sun of Man, Maccabee brand, so pay homage No conflict, just happen we black and be conscious Any comments? Can't help it we're raised in violence I'm just honest, true generals move in silence So when you talk a whole lot you abuse my kindness [Killah Priest] I write rolls of films of old gems From 70 dudes that kick shit sharp or cool (Whadup baby?) Drop jewels like in all colors Polka dots words that shine like disco balls Who said "It ain't nothing like when negros war" It's like Miles and Cicely Tyson Witness me writing, my autobiography on how God came to me Broken hearted from women and sinning in cold apartments Bosses catching charges Fathers nodding wit belts around their arms drift Thinking they're Kings till they wake from out the garbage Wit paramedics listen if their heart skips It's the projects, my people living darkness It's Jesus Christ, Welfare and health benefits Babies crying, mother beefing once winter hits I don't need a string; all I need is more ink So I can write about the way I think These days they linked like chains around my neck My pen and my pad I found a new respect, feel me?