We Live This

[Intro: ~Hell Razah~ (Killah Priest)] (Yeah) Yo Priest? (What up, son?)* Yo, three days ago, son, they just locked up homey, son (word?) He try'nna get out, made bail and shit (ah man) So we gotta grind, get all our niggas out of there (yeah, tell them) Niggas getting three months for weed clips, Bloomberg is bugging the fuck out Knowhatimsaying, yo the Maccabee rebels, throw your M's up Ride out, time to step out the hide out, in the project Yeah, all my DJ's for banging this shit right there Ya'll gon' get mad hood love and respect, homey, word up, yeah [Hell Razah] I'm in the hood, where it's cracks and guns, that's where I stack my funds Blowing that 'dro, that'll collapse your lungs He ain't blowing til his casket come, til his fam in the black By the alter, and the pastors done I'm where the dogs love to kill, for they master's crumb She only 22, son, and got two baby daddy's Fucking with them Arab niggas, driving cabbies Writing Dear Abby, while the young is so nasty They holla at me, from Red Hook back to Cali In white t-shirts, Chuck Taylor's and blue khaki's Get money like we IRS, we came to tax/collect We want ya'll credit cards, cash or checks Fix your eyebrow, watch it, it's Maccabee style Hell Raze', 718, press redial BK, be the borough with the best freestyle And we them live ass niggas, you ain't see in a while [Chorus 2X: Killah Priest] We live this, it's our life Til this world passes over, and they say goodnight [Killah Priest] As the night falls over project, the moon appears like a souvenier For scramblers, who moving hand guns Hammers blow, I pray God protects they soul Bodies turn up in hospitals, like vegetable Death's a toll, we cross with caution, drug extortion Thug abortion, the iron horses Is our only sources, crying, no remorses I draw a hood portrait, with crayons of chaos Graveyards are packed, with all of my people Lord help Mr. Bush when I draw the eagle I'm for the people, by the people The ghetto, is not helpful, so stressful, like death row Preacher says a prayer, then it's off to the chair I wanna kill 'em all, cuz it's war, it ain't fair They gave us guns with six shots, that's why I grab two Glocks Then let off twelve for my nation The combination of hell, embraced by crack addicts Trapped on this atlas, religion's all backwards Blame the president or your pastor Priest Maccabee, I flip on tracks like trampolines Two M-16's, til the whole White House is covered in gasoline Palms up, knees bent, face the East... Let's say our prayer... [Chorus to fade]