Bop Your Head Lyrics - Singles - Killah Priest

[Intro: Killah Priest] 

Yea, yea, yea, yea. 

Yea, yea. Fuck that! 

I`m set it off. Yea, yea, ya shitted. 

Ya in some shit now, son. 

It`s on now, mothafuckas can suck my dick. 

I`m back! Fuck that shit! 

Ready to eat niggaz up, beat they ass and e`rything, son. 

I`m a prove this shit, right here. 

Me and my nigga. What!? 

[Killah Priest] 

The emperor, chief sinister, street minister 

guaranteed in two bars to finish ya 

React like a cat when he arches back 

Give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap 

Related 

Can You Guess The Song By The Emojis? 

Watch Fergie's Epic 'Double Dutchess: Seeing Double' Teaser 

The 5 Most Memorable Moments From The 2017 VMAs 

I`m a vocalist, nigga, supposed to rip 

Last Poet`s told me this, hit ya in ya head wit my explosive fist 

Then I finish ya off with my tremendous horse-kick 

What now, nigga? Look at ya, talk shit 

Can`t do it, 'cause you ain`t got no teeth in ya mouth 

And I know ya just tired of me, beatin ya out 

Ya trained all year, in a karate class 

It took one second, to put yo` ass in a body bag 

From a shotty blast, I walk up in ya club and ya parties don`t last 

I like to pop shit, don`t get me started 

I slap y`all mothafuckas like y`all little kids in kindegarten 

Squeeze yo` head till yo` kidneys harden 

Now watch this, I`ma call my whole mothafuckin squadron 

And tell niggaz to just start robbin 

'Cause y`all niggaz is fucked up 

and Brooklyn niggaz is really ready to get ya 

Photos 

I know how to hit ya, and cut ya open 

But don`t worry, 'cause I`ma stitch ya, with a rusty screwdriver 

[Chorus: Killah Priest] 

Niggaz bop yo` heads to this, real shit 

Call up yo` clicks to this, it`s realness 

You feel this in yo` streets and village 

Spare that new shit, Priest killed it 

why! Niggaz bop yo` heads to this, real shit 

Call up yo` clicks to this, it`s realness 

You feel this in yo` streets and village 

Spare that new shit, `bus killed it 

[Canibus] 

Yo, yo, yo 

Yo I`m a Macabeast MC and I possess the ability 

To run at top speed without bendin my knees 

I destory shit, pin-point asteroids in orbit 

Then, hurl niggaz thousands of miles an hour, towards it 

Fuckin heathen, wrap my hands around ya neck region 

Then I start squeezin `til ya stop breathin 

You weaklins is playin tug-of-war wit ya tongues 

I knock the teeth out ya gums and suck the breeze out ya lungs 

Hit ya wit a blow your physical frame could never sustain 

You`ll probably never walk ever again 

Nigga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lyin stiff 

Pull you behind my horse til I break ya spine, bitch 

Stop cryin bitch, before I hit ya wit the Iron, bitch 

You can`t rhyme bitch, the one triple nine`s mine bitch 

The pain`ll make ya voice change octaves 

From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage 

We judge MC`s by they lyrical fitness 

And punish DJ`s for puttin corny stickers on they mixes 

Smack the stripper bitches for askin for our autograph and pictures 

You`ll be scared to leave the club wit us 

You scratch my back, I`ll scratch your`s bitch 

I`ll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage 

I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud 

Ready to spill ya crimson-colored blood 

The four horsemen on the back of four quadropeds 

Puttin four hoof prints on ya foreheads, mothafuckas! 

(There it is!) So bop ya heads to that, uh (There it is!) 

[Chorus] 

[Outro: Killah Priest] 

Fuckin pussy emcee`s, gon` get a shot in the eye 

Y`all niggaz talk behind nigga`s backs 

Y`all niggaz better bop ya mothafuckin heads before we blow it off 

Ya fuckin perfume missin idiots 

Y`all niggaz always runnin, go run and tell that 

Go on, runnin, run behind somebody`s back 

Run and tell that and take these fuckin slugs wit ya 

We goin` get ya mothafuckin clown 

Yea...