Songtexte: Killah Priest. The Untold Story Of Walter Reed. Taking It Back.

Life is death
Love is life

[Killah Priest:]
Tear sprinklers, closed coffins and liquor bottles
Cups of sorrows, brush off tomorrow
Lost love, no luck, Greyhound bus
Blow gray smoke rose over the city potholes
Obituary to those we missed we buried
Or like gospel scriptures of each niggas
But there weren't saints
The bullet ink helps us paints those pictures
Mornin' grandmother
Brothers holdin' their mothers and faintin' sisters
The streets gather with people
Than as time goes, small groups fade off
A day walk thru the cemetery, I could hear the grave talk
Couldn't cheat death, tho twice he bet
Not Eve to the trees, he kept switchin' the debt
Left-handed, under the dirt soon become under a college campus
Later a place of research and vistin' planets
Will we eva see this gangster again?
No more Timbs, no more 20 inch rims
All the jewelry don't matter, all his money were scattered
Far as the crumbs his wife could gather
No guns, no beef, just eternal sleep
And all you had you couldn't keep
The hood creeps about a week then soon start to forget
Your memory turns to a history
The nigga you use to had beef with is now livin' in your project
And that's hell

[Hook:]
No time for talkin' backwards
I'm a blow this automatic
Your whole future's goin' down
Goin' down-down-down

[Killah Priest:]
What crosses the mind right before you're flatlined
Do you see bright? Do you see night? Do you see Christ?
I wonder what heaven is like?
Paramedics bring life, to we go where each of us came from
One comes cryin', one goes silent
Which is worst? I don't know, it makes my brain numb
When brothers squeeze triggers to cease niggas
Do they think of our future before they shoot ya?
What was it a Pale Horse thoughts of William Cooper
Nailed to a cross, all leads variety of anxieties within my medulla
Kennedy was shot in the head while ridin' the Lincoln
I wonder what Lee Harvey Oswald was thinkin'
When he tried to escape and hide in the theatre
Did he see Mr. John Wilkes Booth in the mirror?
For street cred niggas take heads
For a block they don't even own
The red, blue and gold is in the colors of the rainbow
Heads hang low, when it's a four year old that had to go
No halo, no big bright wings
At the end the dust conquers all of us
And that's the true destiny of a king

[Hook]