Artist: Timbo King f/ Hell Razah, Killah Priest Album: 56 Platoon, Vol. 2: Chain of Command Song: The Barracks Typed by: Tha Masta [Chorus x3: Timbo King (Killah Priest) w/ adlibs] (Here we go!) We the Maccabee ridaz (Fall out, call on to the moon Watch how we move, follow platoons, salute!) We the Maccabee ridaz (Fall out, call on to the moon Watch how we move, follow platoons, salute!) We the Maccabee ridaz (Fall out, call on to the moon Watch how we move, follow platoons, salute!) We the Maccabee ridaz (Fall out, call on to the moon Watch how we move, follow platoons, salute!) We the Macs! [Timbo King] We spit that evolution, that Huey P. Newton I shoot a cop in the face, watch riot lootin' Cuz that's my gun! From the days of Akbar to the Phillip Murph's, yeah we on ya turf A wise man had once said, "It ain't over 'til pronounced dead" My soul belongs to the most high I tell the truth, shame the devil with the most lies Listen close, you might learn somethin' Maccabeez start the revolution, burn somethin' Dry bones and they lackin' knowledge Got dropouts back in college Grown talk, we ain't speakin' childish Either you with me or against me No Kuntakente's or Kizis Fear of a black planet since the '60s Feel the movement, what you sissy? Yeah... [Chorus] [Killah Priest] I got guns with banana clips, run with my hammer clicks Beef I could handle it, watch how I take grammar, swift When they see my Desert E's, they just freeze When I spits it, make a nest of enemies Same way evil make a nest in the streets Priest rockin' any flow, everywhere my semi go Slugs I got plenty mo', hit you up with plenty holes Hooks, crooks, killas and gangstas Israelite, henches, God's crop, niggaz I hang with Revolutionaries blowin' on trees Pull-ups we do in sets in threes, begets, fatigues You know, everyday a different chick I'm with Every one of them say that this nigga is sick Ridiculous, when I plant my dick in chicks And we about guns like Malcolm, when we start to spit Political beef is always the outcome [Chorus] [Hell Razah] Fuck the world, praise the Lord, homey gimme that gun We sell cakes but we had to learn to bake it from crumbs The Catholic priest touchin' boys, enslavin' their nuns The blackout off the drums, hear the savior come It's either jail or the morgue so I'm wavin' my sword It was war when they cut that umbelical cord Understand my pain, we only use a few percent of our brain The other half is payin' rent, what the pen is to claim Gettin' tax free street money's the name of the game Who to trust when the snake is the head of ya gang Got ya mind manipulated not thinkin' it's strange How you spent ya own money and you bring him the change They told a light skinned you better than a dark skinned slave So we sit with AK's 'til they bury our graves And they change our last name back to the ancient of days Hold my left arm attached to a Genesis page [Chorus] [singer] I'm so high, I'm so high... I'm so hiiiiiiiiiiigh... I'm so high, I'm so high... I'm so hiiiiiiiiiiigh...