Holy Rollers Lyrics
| Song | Holy Rollers |
| Artist | Chief Kamachi |
| Album | The Concrete Gospel |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| Yeah, kno'I'mean, this that Philly fiend music | |
| Kno'I'mean, the sound of the dope heatin' on that spoon | |
| Hmmm, you feel that right, I know you feel that right | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L's see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| This for my broke brothers that's leakin' | |
| The have-nots and the heathens | |
| Who work hard and hustle just to spend it all on the weekend | |
| We – live without reason | |
| Numb our brain with liquor and cheeba | |
| Get tore down, hollerin' for God to help us | |
| Everything we take is truth, a misguided message | |
| The hood, better grimey, jealous, aggressive and desperate | |
| And we exit in enormous numbers | |
| Stressed out and restless | |
| City infested, Avenues infected | |
| And the struggle to success? | |
| Only accumulate the herb and depression | |
| Now how in the hell we supposed to get it together? | |
| We go from no diplomas to obituaries | |
| Seminaries and cemeteries, all we know is stress and worry | |
| Nosy neighbors, hoodlums and haters | |
| We reach for the sky | |
| Steady wonder why ain't no angels comin' out of heaven to help us out | |
| We know the situation full of doubt, so look at us now | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L's see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yo, I'm like, what? | |
| God ain't got no love for the kid | |
| Home from a bid, livin' on skid, clutchin' a rib | |
| Little scruff, barely enough to puff production at crib | |
| Small hands of a crack baby touchin' his bib | |
| From a heartless dark place where the evil is hid | |
| Slidin' board of addiction where my people done slid | |
| Only thing in life that really seems equal is dead | |
| Don't need a shrink to take a peek and see through his head | |
| Just study this hood culture where the future is lead | |
| And understand how a young child could shoot you for bread | |
| His whole like "Stop Snitchin'" "**** the blue and the red" | |
| Runnin' the spot, gun cocked, give two to the dred | |
| Only shook when the lookouts holla "The Feds!" | |
| Then you dash, quickly stash or swallow the meds | |
| Upstate, pacin', stressin', walkin' the edge | |
| Second tier, come in here, get tossed from the ledge | |
| I'm a crazy celly, like a war crazed Isreali | |
| I try harder but it seem like these days will fail me | |
| See I'm a psycho, in an asylum I might go | |
| Or I'll be at the door of the Lord with a rifle | |
| Cuz I want more than James, Junior, and Michael | |
| Or I'ma keep studyin' this criminal bible | |
| Psalm one, Palm gun | |
| Ain't no fears in kings, so be prepared for the long run | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L's see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yeah, c'mon, kno'm'sayin', aint' nuttin' changed, kno'm'sayin' | |
| Still out here tryna take dirt and change it to a magic glitter, kno'm'sayin' | |
| Yeah, Holy Rollers, c'mon, Philadelphia |
| Yeah, kno' I' mean, this that Philly fiend music | |
| Kno' I' mean, the sound of the dope heatin' on that spoon | |
| Hmmm, you feel that right, I know you feel that right | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| This for my broke brothers that' s leakin' | |
| The havenots and the heathens | |
| Who work hard and hustle just to spend it all on the weekend | |
| We live without reason | |
| Numb our brain with liquor and cheeba | |
| Get tore down, hollerin' for God to help us | |
| Everything we take is truth, a misguided message | |
| The hood, better grimey, jealous, aggressive and desperate | |
| And we exit in enormous numbers | |
| Stressed out and restless | |
| City infested, Avenues infected | |
| And the struggle to success? | |
| Only accumulate the herb and depression | |
| Now how in the hell we supposed to get it together? | |
| We go from no diplomas to obituaries | |
| Seminaries and cemeteries, all we know is stress and worry | |
| Nosy neighbors, hoodlums and haters | |
| We reach for the sky | |
| Steady wonder why ain' t no angels comin' out of heaven to help us out | |
| We know the situation full of doubt, so look at us now | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yo, I' m like, what? | |
| God ain' t got no love for the kid | |
| Home from a bid, livin' on skid, clutchin' a rib | |
| Little scruff, barely enough to puff production at crib | |
| Small hands of a crack baby touchin' his bib | |
| From a heartless dark place where the evil is hid | |
| Slidin' board of addiction where my people done slid | |
| Only thing in life that really seems equal is dead | |
| Don' t need a shrink to take a peek and see through his head | |
| Just study this hood culture where the future is lead | |
| And understand how a young child could shoot you for bread | |
| His whole like " Stop Snitchin'" " the blue and the red" | |
| Runnin' the spot, gun cocked, give two to the dred | |
| Only shook when the lookouts holla " The Feds!" | |
| Then you dash, quickly stash or swallow the meds | |
| Upstate, pacin', stressin', walkin' the edge | |
| Second tier, come in here, get tossed from the ledge | |
| I' m a crazy celly, like a war crazed Isreali | |
| I try harder but it seem like these days will fail me | |
| See I' m a psycho, in an asylum I might go | |
| Or I' ll be at the door of the Lord with a rifle | |
| Cuz I want more than James, Junior, and Michael | |
| Or I' ma keep studyin' this criminal bible | |
| Psalm one, Palm gun | |
| Ain' t no fears in kings, so be prepared for the long run | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yeah, c' mon, kno' m' sayin', aint' nuttin' changed, kno' m' sayin' | |
| Still out here tryna take dirt and change it to a magic glitter, kno' m' sayin' | |
| Yeah, Holy Rollers, c' mon, Philadelphia |
| Yeah, kno' I' mean, this that Philly fiend music | |
| Kno' I' mean, the sound of the dope heatin' on that spoon | |
| Hmmm, you feel that right, I know you feel that right | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| This for my broke brothers that' s leakin' | |
| The havenots and the heathens | |
| Who work hard and hustle just to spend it all on the weekend | |
| We live without reason | |
| Numb our brain with liquor and cheeba | |
| Get tore down, hollerin' for God to help us | |
| Everything we take is truth, a misguided message | |
| The hood, better grimey, jealous, aggressive and desperate | |
| And we exit in enormous numbers | |
| Stressed out and restless | |
| City infested, Avenues infected | |
| And the struggle to success? | |
| Only accumulate the herb and depression | |
| Now how in the hell we supposed to get it together? | |
| We go from no diplomas to obituaries | |
| Seminaries and cemeteries, all we know is stress and worry | |
| Nosy neighbors, hoodlums and haters | |
| We reach for the sky | |
| Steady wonder why ain' t no angels comin' out of heaven to help us out | |
| We know the situation full of doubt, so look at us now | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yo, I' m like, what? | |
| God ain' t got no love for the kid | |
| Home from a bid, livin' on skid, clutchin' a rib | |
| Little scruff, barely enough to puff production at crib | |
| Small hands of a crack baby touchin' his bib | |
| From a heartless dark place where the evil is hid | |
| Slidin' board of addiction where my people done slid | |
| Only thing in life that really seems equal is dead | |
| Don' t need a shrink to take a peek and see through his head | |
| Just study this hood culture where the future is lead | |
| And understand how a young child could shoot you for bread | |
| His whole like " Stop Snitchin'" " the blue and the red" | |
| Runnin' the spot, gun cocked, give two to the dred | |
| Only shook when the lookouts holla " The Feds!" | |
| Then you dash, quickly stash or swallow the meds | |
| Upstate, pacin', stressin', walkin' the edge | |
| Second tier, come in here, get tossed from the ledge | |
| I' m a crazy celly, like a war crazed Isreali | |
| I try harder but it seem like these days will fail me | |
| See I' m a psycho, in an asylum I might go | |
| Or I' ll be at the door of the Lord with a rifle | |
| Cuz I want more than James, Junior, and Michael | |
| Or I' ma keep studyin' this criminal bible | |
| Psalm one, Palm gun | |
| Ain' t no fears in kings, so be prepared for the long run | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| How I fell in hell in the cell wit the world on my shoulders | |
| Holy Rollers | |
| Tryna twist them L' s see the spell different cast on my soldiers | |
| Yeah, c' mon, kno' m' sayin', aint' nuttin' changed, kno' m' sayin' | |
| Still out here tryna take dirt and change it to a magic glitter, kno' m' sayin' | |
| Yeah, Holy Rollers, c' mon, Philadelphia |
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