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letra de street preacha - t-bone

[t-bone]
my lyrics phat like don cartagena, you never seen a
latino rapper pick up the mic and eat mcs like gelatina
from the bay area down to argentina
i be slangin’ the gospel in your crack houses like it was cocaina
mira mija, la firme linya de rao familia
no son gallinas, k!llin’ them demons is a misdemeanor
so we ain’t scared of y’all, we lived above the law
now we got pimps, addicts, thugs
and these hustlas at the altar call
prayin’, sayin’ thing like “forgive me for my evil ways” then
get off their knees and be delivered from 12 years of blazin’
praisin’ the name of christ, ain’t scared to give my life
for the one who died on the cross and saved
me when my life was trite, now it’s alright
god wrote these lyrics, peep the copyright
buildin’ an army in a world that’s dark, so we can bring the light
raisin veteranos cristianos that we call hermanos
deadly like rattle snakes but worse when mics are in our manos
in my cara, no dicen nada, puro amenasadas
wack envious rappers wanna bite like a thousand piranhas
i bring the heat like a sauna
with cubana mamas from havana
oye como va, when i rock like santana

[hook]
one of the last street preachas left, poet -ss-ssin [what]
scarface in the flesh, straight out the west
where we ride on the enemies
striptease, pour out liquor for the deceased
and jack their car keys
[2x]

[t-bone]
i stay humble and meek
get on my knees and wash my brethren’s feet
you quick to speak and judge, i quick to turn the other cheek
forgive my foes, 479 times and add 11
just to equal 70 times 7, rap reverend
preachin’ sermons to those thugs livin’
k!llin’, sinnin’, feelin’ that they can never be forgiven
ghetto prison is where they livin’, so i make incisions
cut to the heart and operate’ tell ’em the son’s arisen
if you ain’t gettin’ what i be spittin’
let me grab my weapons
sawed off k.j.v. with 66 clips that are made for hittin’
straight to the heart, we wrestle not against flesh and blood
just to save thugs, blastin’ partners with god’s love
pump pump you get stucked when i dump
sawed off, the old man get hauled off
and that’s the way its coming out the west side
yo, i’m preachin’ jesus christ crucified

[hook]

[t-bone]
what up mama, it’s the rap papa
don dadda, the one who used to smoke grama
from nicaragua, sip champaña, in the sauna, hollerin’ “¡ay, caramba!”
now i’m a redeemed hoodlum tellin’ em “¡cristo te ama!”
i’m a bring the drama like tony montana
’cause when demons step to me
they get cut worse then shrimp at benihana’s
back in the days hittin’ weed, smokin’ roaches
but we ain’t no playas [tell ’em why] we some coaches
i get ferocious then i bury all you c-ckroaches
get bent off the holy ghost and take it by the doses
i’m super-california-lyrics-expialidocious
bible in my holster, see me on the poster
devil outlined in chalk, i walk the walk and talk the talk
jehovah nostras
being a christian’s on the day-to-day, forget the half way
can’t hardly praise the lord, then smoke and sip the alizé
or tanqueray or you’ll get blown up like a hand grenade
i ain’t afraid, i slit the devil’s throat with my switch blade
that’s real, dog!

[hook]

- t bone

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