Melodic Pt. 2

[Intro] Yo, yo, what up, son? Yeah Get your weed and your Heineken It's melodic, Yo, yo, who got a stogie on them? Priest...I'm dropping the Killah Beloved the beloved beloved brothers come on [Killah Priest] When doves cry doobie fly Cooley High school kids Watching White Shadow my favorite character was Coolidge Movie slides the shots and the car chase My favorite was Al Pacino in Scarface Cool like DeNiro in Casino, old Mob tapes It made my heart break when Fredo ratted on his brother Michael Godfather 2, we replayed the Don's drama in school Article 2, my 16's are like Billion-dollar budget movie scene on big screens Al Green is doing my themes From off the Greatest Hits which is my favorite disc Play it, it skips, the screens burns from a tiny brown hole In the center the bulbs pop it's the picture I learned to handle bars on the mic Before I handled bars on the bike, I hold it tight Drug dealers homage empty promises acknowledge this Broken dreams smoking fiends lying on the roof Some are nodding with the belts tied around they arms Out cold, pipes still in they palms A household about five at night four are gone To roam the streets around Section 8 Here's my Offering pass around collection plates [Hook] Dreamers dream, melodic flow governed by Kings Wings of a phoenix bird take up my words And peck 'em down to a compound, observe Refers his master [Killah Priest] Stainless glass windows of ancient black Negroes on my casement My visitors, thug niggas hopping out of spaceships Like "What up Priest? We just swerved across your spectrum" Word, had Armani spacesuits, holding two bad alien birds Saying "Neek neek neek" translated means "where's the herb?" He fucked the green bitch, I took the blue one Up in some alien pussy "Nigga, save the crew some!" Yells one of my dogs Just came home from Mars He was up in this bar where this lizard bitch was stripping Bugging, like we acid tripping Addicts in my vision The scene turns like it's Claudine James Earl Jones, hot combs over stoves Dax hair grease, a rare piece of footage, hood clips Narrated and composed by the Priest Curtains close on the streets The score's done by the poor but the pure dreamers [Hook] [Hell Razah] Handwriting's on the project wall Spray painted in the modern day Cuneiform on black uniforms You might meet a crackhead that made it, to translate it He can tell you who's fuckin' with broads, and who related But you gotta know the ghetto password, so he could say it In the Hood we turn throwing up signs into a language Rather blue steel or stainless guns, we gonna buy 'em Riots, we gonna start 'em, fuck it, they got problems Pour me some more crushed grapes in my cup, it's envy and lust It's automatic semis we clutch, to David Ruff We carve knives out of elephant tusks Eleven of us, then build about the angels and the God we trust [Hook]