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letra de the preacher & the angel - c-rayz walz

[verse 1: c-rayz walz and 4th pyramid]
“brain sh-ll and the teacher”—that’s what i quote
every time i’m coming through, high off buddha smoke
the truest folk know that pyramid is in fluids, yoked
ayyo, the preacher and the angel revealing truth
you like triple 5 soul clothes—only small cats be feeling you
i roll with the big dogs that are four-vehicle-wheel stealing you
on some jfk sh-t, revealing truth
technical difficulties—[word to apex crew?]
instead of words, you cannot say, “no way, no how”
what? i slap and scr-p you, move through
yo, i’ll grab you, move you
man, pyramid doing voodoo for black magic
weed and alcohol a bad habit
i gots to grab it, gots to have it
mango masala on my homie—you know me
mississippi pilgrims on the roti
marijuana crumbs in goatee
no justice, no peace
in these cold streets, we hold heat like cochise
free stripes and ponies, free snipes and olde e
might consume a breast
walking down the block with a puma as a pet
yo, an ill rapper that’ll k!ll this
and, no, you’ll never see me with syphilis
rip the hits that your favorite rappers sing to, but so do i
no fool when i get high, but sometimes
need to get bent
coming through, man. weed in the tent
see me in the forest, deplore this, explore this
man, i’m coming through, looking for dora
two nice guys that only deal with raw hoes
m-st-rbating at the award shows
holding my d-ck like a weirdo like, “yo, mtv raps
here’s the whole earlobe.” i’ve been doing this for too long
so me and none of y’all quick rappers gonna get along
i’ll beat you with a belt and expose your thongs
going outside. it’s too hot in the house
yo, i love this art but i got to move
for today—shift if i can’t get paid for another cd
we the dirt soldiers. let me out!
the dirty soldiers, ugly
no bath. pay up
no deodorant. aiya!
ay! the dirt soldiers
yo, look out. i got no bath
i ain’t even wipe my -ss
got the tissue. better use a gat mask
‘cause the cat took a dump and i ain’t even move that
move that, move back
i don’t smell too good, man, do jack
a little too much black bat
but hey, man, my rap’s fat
you know it’s on some script for the tat scam
moving nondescript like when i see ya dash, fam
you know me, dirty on the surf, smell like lear
ayyo, give you dap, wipe all my sweat on your new t-shirt
we flirt with your girl on the busway
see me hurt—on-the-mic ninja
‘cause we here, smelling like kenya
and my shirts smell like hydro. you could probably smoke it
go ‘head, fruit-of-the-loom-toking
oh man, that sh-t got me high, got me wide
got me asking why i’m here with you right now, doing this on the mic, man
yo, if i had not chose rap, i’d be outside, doing the stick
plotting some script
nowadays, i’m spitting while your chick’s sniffing my d-ck
i be working the 9 to 5
hating life, debating why i’m living trife to myself
believe in god. see, it’s odd
most people need a job to feel the lord
ayyo, don’t give me pound—i got thunder palms
‘bout to wile out, shoot the d train up after i shave my underarms
take a squat in my hands and give your pops barrel in his paw
yo, man. i will take a dump in your house, not clean the toilet bowl
invite your girl, tell her that the sh-t is clogged
spitting odd. you gotta understand i’m a dirty b-st-rd
known to come through with words, man, up the -ss
ayyo, i will… i will make you buy my cd and pay you to buy it
and then slap you with it
then sue me to pay you twice
gave you four copies
and then sent you the invoice to your house
yo, i’ll smoke a nickel 125th with a silver chain
holding a tec to my brain like, “what? who want it?”
don’t n0body want to see me
i wiled out, looking like the board of ouija
yo, i go to a bar, order three drinks and be like, “hold up”
my man got this cd from me

[interlude: c-rayz walz and 4th pyramid]
yo, man. high and dumb. yo, wait for the album high and dumb. c-rayz walz and 4th pyramid. the homeless b-st-rds. high and dumb. the angel and the preacher. blended with drunk and stupid. about to surprise you. c-rayz walz didn’t even come to the building tonight. basically. kids kidnapped and slashed you

[verse 2: c-rayz walz]
i will slap you moms and tell her
“jesus christ is not gonna visit you if you don’t show me your picture”
i will slap you whole family
with gats with no bullets—the empty clips, yo
word up. you talk to me, b
i will having you clipped to death with a ghostface tape
we’ll p-ss in your adats, yo
need a crossover
yo, on some stronghold animal, superficial script
i move tank w—my mics is cushion
watch this. s-s-stab you, grab you
my freestyles, yo
rivers stray for categories, the streets st-rdy the rocks for the shorties
with boots to berry gordy with the hits that’ll make ‘em naughty
the kid sell cracks in the capsule, lyrical h-ssles
that’ll blast you. got it moving on the m-ssh0l-s
i’m walz, c-rayz. [evelyn?] and supernatural h-ssle
but watch out—them cops with snuggles out to blast you, rat you
you ain’t ready for the flow. i probably d-cked your ho
and came back on the super homicide with the clipper flow
a pizza pasta, but watch out for those of wise guys
who wanna act like lobster, constantly drive a mazda
six to six, the rasta with the flus to fix
on the new daily noose, tying the shoelaces with
i used to be signed to rawkus
now i’m on def jam with c-rayz to make tomorrow’s suckers
you only know me from the half
that’s why after i gave you a pound, five minutes later, i beat your -ss
i got you flipping on the scheme to flash
type to go to your house, grab the curtain and skeet the br-ss
becoming your stereo. you heard me on some “here we go”
me and kane was at the dinero show
i had the big cuban link and dj polo was drinking
i asked this h0m- thug, “yo, what the f-ck you thinking?”
soiling houston with boosting
put his brains in the upside-down lanes of vertical protrusion
‘cause this hip hop sh-t is prost-tution
that’s why i sell my own music—to be seduced in the game
introducing my name, we’ll take a sh-t and my quip drip
the [banner get washed?] that made the pennies rip
the john forté scenario
when he went to rikers island and couldn’t handle the cameo role
it’s wasn’t a fl1ck from aweso to super ballzo
to c-rayz walz with [?] and [?]
i’m half j-panese—winner train to scr-p a knee
thinking it was freestyles the way i’m writing these
i don’t spit for y’all. i’d rather scratch my b-lls
put your girl with the ash-hole and tell her, “it’s popcorn”
these brown tissue stains is famous, written with the railers
puncture all your djs and players with the stainless
a broken microphone is spitting long
i’ll smack my b-tch up any time you flip or write them savage songs
the truth is a lot and anybody shoot the glock
acting like me with your friends—that’s when you lose the top
and the b-tches burn. but watch when these b-tches learn
if you’re coming from breast stuy, you got a brownsville bird
and we ain’t doing karate with the body
we probably acting like a monte carly with the life of the party
pyramid was p-ssing on your lawn
when your girl was in the house, eating soybean, l1cking his thong
me and the wack mcs don’t get along
angel and the preacher. “we need at least 15 g’s”—that’s the other song
and that’s just the ep. better release me
or have me on the concourse with the f-cking squeegees
here, we ducking the heebie-jeebies, f-cking the easy
acting like on drunk on the porch, sipping the easy jeezy
ayyo, polo, my man, acting like he getting down
flipping with the hit and the sound to make your body float
i complicate in the studio
telling cops, “you don’t know me from the next james bond movie role”
this cold ice double-0 7
n-ggas went back to h-ll like, “yo, what the f-ck? i know the reverend”
i let the preacher talk. it came back to bleach us, walk
with a half a step on these sheets where my sick erasers talk
but now they ate a block
i got it ate enough to say your face and cops probably n-ggas that slayed pac
the same b-tch n-ggas that’s fighting as j foxx
i got the green for me—your jit trade bite marks
a samurai on the villa
vampires with [?] cats and rap stealers
my man scratching the records on the [?]
better watch out—as it flip, he feel

[verse 3: 4th pyramid]
i’m spitting this song ‘cause so many suppress the energy
that keep me strong. when they hear it, they befriending me
man with the specs stand with a hex
ready to unleash it. but it’s all peace, kid
i’m more like the sh-t shattered—pick up the pieces
f-ck the chit chatter. what i spit matter—it releases
all types of tension
all i ask for is a slight bit of mention
five different races, six billion faces
sh-t still amazes. life is just a stage
it’s never over
the war is on—tell a soldier
i’m still writing
tell the people, “chill,” when they fighting
bring it backs in the trap. hold me back
control the wack every time i’m coming through
man, you don’t know how i be spitting rap
forgiving cats that want to combat
now my tec’s back, deep boots
sugar-coated sk!lls, lost intellect on a track—got a sweet tooth
one-man army known to regroup
when i see troops, you can’t harm me
stuck in a desert with three loops nonchalantly
in a truck with three leopards living calmly
away from bad vibes
if i don’t know, i ask tribes
girls p-ss by, laugh-cry emotion
coasting, vogan, wondering if i’ll ever be in a yacht, smoking
on the ocean, sipping guinness
we rip and live with b-tches—this is how i do, ma’am
my hits is delicious
i’ll be the frizznatic. 4th pyramid
man from the north, the man that you’ll be fearing, kid
won the track. homeless b-st-rd, a character
artists stuck in one dimension, i’m telling ya
you need to go back to the old school
control fools who want to hold jewels [?]
the pyramid’s spelling how the jewels is gone
now you a fool that’s trying to diss my song?
it’s all love. it’s all gravy. it’s all chill
i’m the preacher—maybe. you should sit down and try and have a conversation
let go of that ego
me and c-rayz in the crib for a week. we flow
trees blaze, the hair grow
of course 4th pyramid coming through like a scarecrow
i’m filthy, ain’t based in three days
but i don’t give a occ-m—i’m recording ish with c-rayz

[verse 4: c-rayz walz]
any plans of deodorant is far-fetched
my beard looking like a russian carpet
call talknicians and car tar missing
when i spit bars, new york listen, has tall vision
conan core disclaimer sketched out
petrol when i drain out, move through
van exel, knick slam
’88 laker traitor knick fan
what’s going on? my man, this is the bar mitzvah
make the crowd throw they hands up in the air and hum “hilter”
asthmatic slave with a pump run the odor, blood donor
ghostface k!llahwatted. this is sonar
blue jeans, cologne, versace bouton
liquid disclaimer flipping on the phone
yo, shorty off the cellphone, hooking the bean rack. page occur
watch out. you just made your word
underground player, i disable flavor, word?
but i ain’t kissing no -ss. me no question
give you the same answer: i told the last
pair of a&r they fake
i say, “get off of my meat. you can’t hold the tape”
we hold the weight of the world, control the
weight of your girl, boning her on a scale
what, you think these harpoons will ever lonely or fail?
stronghold. what you telling me? toxic wealth
angel and the preacher. these is real—we ain’t fronting. y’all heard me
we said, “we b-st-rds, homeless and dirty”
i sleep on the floor before i lay on the gr-ss
and i’ll let your girl kiss my d-ck before i kiss your -ss
p-ssing fast liquid nitrogen—you better dash
‘cause these p-ss is alcohol razor blades. cool fool, use your ‘stache
your jewels ain’t strong enough
and, obviously, your rope chain ain’t long enough
‘cause if it was suddenness, you better set it with me
you’d do better rocking with l and busy bee
easily dissing the c-r-to-the-a-y-z
to get paralyzed from the body up
stuck in the lobby, plugged
tell ‘em why they gotta they wipe b-tt on the potty before they get up

[verse 5: 4th pyramid]
ayyo, smoking that male-female hybrid
always sleep with at least one open eyelid
most of y’all cats that joke don’t really know where i live
not upward—at the left. all i really bump is my sh-t
man, i’m coming through with that “one, two”
sh-t that make you go back to the boom bap
come through, check my catalog, tell me if a tune’s wack
i build my honesty, not greed and drop these
of course, man. i’m knock-kneed
the skinny cat. i got weed in my pocket
most of the time, man, we be smoking that chocolate
haze amazing. come through and blaze for days
you don’t understand i’m crazed with rage, man
and this be the preacher, the teacher
hi, how you doing, man? yo, it was really good to meet ya
i’m on 89.7
our 9s call the number: 212
854
pyramid the ill live wire rhyme war
447
see the preacher, the reverend
call me on cloud 3, man
i spit quietly

[verse 6: c-rayz walz]
ayyo, this is flip philips (what?)
but i’ll mary mariah
and k!ll a kennedy
spread fire to a freddie foxxx
if the mic wasn’t real hot
k!ll a cameo of purges with cool joe
break the ceiling with carmen sandiego
you know this is hot, dante
i’ll be banging booties with beyoncé
demonstrations in the park with dmx
will have me wearing eckos with etch a sketch
y’all better forget about these fathering fathers
who could get to mcs like father
‘til the ladies don’t love me no more
i’ll be plucking parables
puffy pumping your wh0r-
you going on and sure flow fast
looking at seafoods with lollipops with low fat
y’all cats is siamese simpletons
smack y’all and break your dentures then

[verse 7: c-rayz walz and 4th pyramid]
if i had candy, you’d get no pez
most of y’all hoes look red, rashed, wretched
i’m not coming through with that perplexion
you just don’t have a brain to hear me
believe me, i’m coming through, man. you got to hear me
flow on…
ayyo, how much of an idiot am i?
we are not even caged in this sh-t
i need to be slapped with my own d-ck
huge stupidity, man
i’m on the move, away to italy
and get the f-ck away from you
oh sh-t. i should k!ll you dumb b-st-rds
we’re not even taping (yeah we are)
yo, i’ll blow my face off
but we are taping
you get picked up with brains in the bas-m-nt
like me and freddy krueger and jason and damian is racing
looking for jason
‘cause we heard we was on the block on halloween, freebasing
well, redman and method man were speed-tasting
in the clouds, where brutus [be the father of?] beefcake-basing
at the same time, cher was being stingy to my amazement
strange as flip philips (what’s up?)
4th pyramid. yo, we had to dip dibble
on some dirty b-st-rd sh-t
walk on the ground with my socks off—you gotta peep this
let your feet breathe. these sneakers is chemical
holding your bung, it’s not gonna breathe. it’s sumbliminal
the beat flexology, techniques of tae bo
sire, i’m nice. i’ll spit on your kundalini fire
p-ss on your fourth chakra, smack the seventh
k!ll you on the first day, reresurrect you on the eleventh
i’m walz, a rich man who brings beards to peasants
i don’t even share no more—i just disappear with my lessons
i sh-t when it’s convenient, fart when it’s not
blow up the spot like arabian tw-t
what’s going on? y’all cats better save me a lot
to start off, we could get it off with a dingy plot
the shame will be a low, down and dirty one
f-ck a keyboard—you know i’m still stuck on qwerty, son

- c rayz walz

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