Pray to the east, pray to the east...
|
|
Yeah
|
I got my man in the studio
|
One of the illest MC's in the world
|
Rhyme Inspector Percee P
|
Kick some flavor for 94, baby
|
|
|
Pray to the east, pray to the east
|
Before you fuck around, nigga, pray to the east ( 2x )
|
|
[ Percee P ]
|
Your skills lack while I'm still strapped
|
With real raps, and feel that I should kill wack
|
Niggas that peel caps and that ill crap
|
Bigger threat than you with your tec when I rip the set
|
Niggas get smoked like a cigarette, so hit the deck
|
Watch ya chin, nigga, Ho-chi-min when I rock my shit
|
When it comes to props I get lots of it
|
I can get Madonna, money, your threats are minor
|
And bet you find your girl with a wet pijama
|
Drippin with my cassette behind her
|
Got more band trail than your hand's sellin
|
Fans scalin, jam railin like it's Van Halen
|
Skills scored high on billboards, I kill frauds
|
Get real applausesteal broads' hearts at will force
|
Hate a mark, skills lay a squad, and pray to god
|
Don't say a hard verse worse than a plate of lard
|
Percee P wanted for first degree
|
Murder, since you heard it first from me, you worshipped me
|
Fuckin threat, you heard nothin yet
|
No need for buckin tecs, but rappers to duck in fret or upper-jet
|
Mastered art, yo, when I flow something drastic starts
|
Speed up a bastard's heart, great like jurassic park
|
I cut you up like a sharp machete blade
|
Swear to god, only card you can pull if it's Medicaid
|
Done with all this gun shit, fuck who you run with, son split
|
The only thing you shoot is your dick, and it comes quick
|
|
[ Maestro Fresh Wes ]
|
I'm like a bat outta hell tonight, niggas compell to bite
|
I swell the mic when I like, fatter than cellulite
|
I injure ears of engineers, sendin em into cheers
|
Bringin my peers into tears, don't interfere
|
Critics know I pack a wicked blow
|
I put you in a clinic, so forget it like Riddick Bowe
|
Nigga, go to hell, I flow so well
|
Find another brother or mother or hoe to tell
|
Or a bro to jeal', how's my jam gonna sell? Very well
|
I send you back because you bring the wack
|
I'm into rap, I interact with empty tracks
|
Locked in, wack muthafuckas are blockin
|
The Top 10 while the black radio jocks spin
|
The calmer vibe, the modified
|
I like the harder side, Jeffrey Dahmer tried, but died
|
More words than a hour of scrabble, I got the power to battle
|
Skadaddle or get devoured like the Tower of Babel
|
Adversaries are snotty, some compare me to Gotti
|
I bury a body, then carry a shotie
|
The maestro rips the psycho shit
|
Brain like a microchip, and I'ma excite you with
|
The smoother rhythm, sendin mad crews to prison
|
Who choose to listen while I use my U-4 missiles
|
Collectin the pesos from a stage show
|
Gettin fellatio from a h-o (why) because I say so
|
My ratio expands as I wreck lands
|
Makin def jams like Redman and X Clan
|
I'ma nail the genitalia from Australia to Somalia
|
Cause I'm smooth, just like a sailor
|
I damage em all, bitches give me casual calls
|
I'm slammin and jammin and rammin they vaginal walls
|
Drums are fat over funky tracks
|
Like Perce every verse could make your lung collapse
|
I'm extra-nice, who's next to slice?
|
Before you step to mics, nigga, check with christ
|
You better
|
|
Pray to the east, pray to the east
|
Before you fuck around nigga pray to the east...
|
|
-----------------
|
Pray to Da East
|
| Maestro Fresh Wes |
