[Intro: Killah Priest (Nas)]
Uh, yeah, say it
(Killah Priest) Nas
(The Dirty Harry) The Dirty Harry
Yeah (yeah)
Uh, my gun is tinglin
Uh, spill drinks on me, uh
[Verse 1: Killah Priest]
The reep of presents, I reach for my weapon, stressing
Compulsive disorder, I step closer to the alter
Confessions, a preacher touches my dome, I soak in the water
My presence is there, but I can't see it quite clear
But I can feel it, next to my nine, there's a bottle
And there's a spirit, I feel sheer bliss
I've been baptivised, but I still feel bad vibes
From niggas, used to shoot fair ones, but now we pull guns
Quicker, I took a sip from the liquor
Took a hit of the L, the mixture, had me feeling sicker
Paint a dark picture that flicker, load my clip up with shells
The air got thicker
Two more shots of Tequila, stare at the mirror
The face is too familiar, the reflections of a true killer
Whose real, though I'm drunk, I pick up my pump
Stand looking like Huey, but slumped
It's Nostradamus, Saint Thomas with the Uzi in front
My Garden of Eden is apartment where they puff they trees and
The serpents alerting through the weak secretions
The earth's scent from a furnace, quiet, Priest is teaching
Big Apple's a hassle, project tabernacles, telling stories through the urban tattoos
Bullet wounds, some serving capsules
Thug Vatican, Priest lounging between two Greek statues
You try to front, and the heat'll clap you
Uh, yeah, say it
(Killah Priest) Nas
(The Dirty Harry) The Dirty Harry
Yeah (yeah)
Uh, my gun is tinglin
Uh, spill drinks on me, uh
[Verse 1: Killah Priest]
The reep of presents, I reach for my weapon, stressing
Compulsive disorder, I step closer to the alter
Confessions, a preacher touches my dome, I soak in the water
My presence is there, but I can't see it quite clear
But I can feel it, next to my nine, there's a bottle
And there's a spirit, I feel sheer bliss
I've been baptivised, but I still feel bad vibes
From niggas, used to shoot fair ones, but now we pull guns
Quicker, I took a sip from the liquor
Took a hit of the L, the mixture, had me feeling sicker
Paint a dark picture that flicker, load my clip up with shells
The air got thicker
Two more shots of Tequila, stare at the mirror
The face is too familiar, the reflections of a true killer
Whose real, though I'm drunk, I pick up my pump
Stand looking like Huey, but slumped
It's Nostradamus, Saint Thomas with the Uzi in front
My Garden of Eden is apartment where they puff they trees and
The serpents alerting through the weak secretions
The earth's scent from a furnace, quiet, Priest is teaching
Big Apple's a hassle, project tabernacles, telling stories through the urban tattoos
Bullet wounds, some serving capsules
Thug Vatican, Priest lounging between two Greek statues
You try to front, and the heat'll clap you
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