|
Yeah, this that Section-8 Egyptian slang |
|
Mic Messiah |
|
[Chief Kamachi] |
|
Yo should I do some evil? |
|
Because my whole squad illegal |
|
They want that street shit tell me I'm too cerebral |
|
Take Illmatic mixed with some Beanie Sigel |
|
Islamic flag on a window of a Buick Regal |
|
Niggas ministers hustle from a crack Cathedral |
|
Been on a cross, fell off, snapped the steeple |
|
But who cares if Kingdom Come |
|
Old glass of gin and rum, the sin is done |
|
In life's lottery, all I wanna win is one |
|
But my record's in a red |
|
Finger's still connected to the lead |
|
Put down that one-two checker to ya head |
|
Chief Kamachi known as _______________ |
|
Tryna give you the science and the principals |
|
Kill my body but the spirit is invincible |
|
Hold my own on a soldier throne |
|
Kamalah back to the Vatican exposing Rome |
|
(Chorus) 2x |
|
Ayo I'm doing this for crooks with arms |
|
Corner store Priest with their books of charms |
|
And all of the ahki's that give salams |
|
And all the Black magicians that wave their wands |
|
[Chief Kamachi] |
|
It's the rap Dikembe |
|
Back in my African kinte |
|
80's gold chain rock Sergio Valente |
|
I'm a hustler, ways of the mystics I use |
|
They don't understand, say I'm contradicting my views |
|
I look the preacher in his eyes |
|
Spit on his shoes, he's a liar |
|
Who the Messiah? Nigga sit on the pews |
|
My resurrection pay some unforgettable dudes |
|
It's so deep, sometimes I gotta spit it in clues |
|
They say I'm crazy, mental, Kamachi is confused |
|
I say I'm Angelic, God-body, how can you choose? |
|
They say I'm drunk off eagle in the booth with the booze |
|
I say I don't drink, sit up like a King when he rule |
|
Take a stroll around my castle and pick up a jewel |
|
Like it's an Easter egg hunting elementary school |
|
Think deep like a building penitentiary tools |
|
Around the globe, they use to see me for centuries rule |
|
(Chorus) 2x |
|
[Chief Kamachi] |
|
Yo, beware when the serpent's tongue scorched the script |
|
The torture's lit, I fiend pitchfork your clique |
|
Lord of the crip, skeleton absorbing the grip |
|
An 012 astronaunt forced to strip |
|
You stoneage gangsta old Porsche with a stick |
|
I'm in a lightmobile, deal with a force that is sick |
|
Pharaoh mind, you the soft Christmas carol kind |
|
Mic Messiah, my authentic apparel shine |
|
Bulletproof aura, look at what your arrows find |
|
You should try walking the stairs that the sparrows climb |
|
My pyramids is closed for guest |
|
Why take time to study and expose the rest |
|
Hip-Hopper slash witch doctor of finesse |
|
Gold king Tut coffin when they put me to rest |
|
Frankincense and an Ankh tattoo to my chest |
|
Screaming "Section-8 Egyptian did it the best" |
|
Messiah!!! |
|
Yeah, c'mon |
|
For my crooked angels worldwide |
|
Yeah, Mic Messiah, Chief Kamachi |
|
Yeah, Philadelphia |
|
C'mon |
