Profits Paradise Killah Priest (Ft. Agallah)

[Verse 1: Killah Priest]
The regime my team lace [?] machines
Come with laser beams, goggle of mini screens through our nozzles
So the semi won’t scream
The wishings of war make ‘em stick to walls
Pickin’ ‘em off, they hittin’ the floor
Or stiff in the morgue, oh you thought you was hard?
’til the hands of gods take out them stars
To distant lands through the fog
All your man can do is sob
As the [?] with gloves and swabs, maybe was an inside job
And I’m on a boat in the raincoat, hat and a pipe and smoke sailing through storms
Now I’m on an island near a pool where it’s warm
The life of a don
Cigar, beach chairs and newspaper, racehorse bets and threat and paintings that’s rare
Return with the passport that read “Mr. Tad York”
Then talk like Malachi York when it’s my time to confess in court
Then leave the building press at my loft
Forging my writing, speak foreign, enticing
The [?], my eyes are teary, feel me? I’m not guilty
The Lord heal me, I’m limping, trying not to smile as I leave the trial
I’m touching the court doors, I suck in my jaws
Then I pause, turn around, take out my cannon

[Hook]
Yeah
Will we ever reach paradise, when you’re trapped around wolves and parasites?
Examine the game and read the chapters right
Float in the Range with three carat ice