Chains Lyrics - Killah Priest

[Intro: Killah Priest (Masta Killa)] 

Let it flow, deh-deh-duh (yeah) it's on (beh-deh-deh-deh) 

(Den-e-neh) on... (yo, aiyo) 

[Chorus: reggae sample] 

Keep on knowin' what you know 

Keep on knowin' what you know 

End up, up, up, in chains, chains, chains 

[Masta Killa] 

Back in '88, son was gettin' a little paper 

Caught a few stings, rocked the phat rope cables 

Pushed the white Mercury Sable, known for holdin' heat 

Pharoah garmer marks on his feet, serpents whisper 

You can smell the deceit, they greet me like peeps, to blend 

And try to befriend, to get up, underneath the skin 

My long wind'll blow ya head piece degrees 

Murder One Team, Barcelini Noodle had lean 

Microphone fiend, step into the rhythm 

This is how I'm servin' them, no need for medic attention 

I just murder them, murder them... pussy, I just murder them 

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[Chorus] 

[R.A. the Rugged Man] 

I'm a dip-dip diverse, socializer 

I'm a hoof flat top rule, in eighty niner 

They say Rugged, by now, you should of at least blown 

It's funny, I'm mad famous for being unknown 

I'm just a dirty motherfucker, they hate my guts 

All I talk about is bitches, and bustin' nuts 

Yeah, I got a foul mouth, yeah, I cuss too much 

I'm just so Ricky Ricardo, ri-di-cu-lous 

And I ain't got no fly whip, I still ride the bus 

I got Mitch Blood Green on the scene with us 

Hospitable, hitable, cooler than Digable 

Criminal, miracle, lyrical take every syllable literal 

Little riddle, profitable, visible, iritibal 

Little brittle pitiful fist still too little you tickle, you typical 

Yeah, I talk shit, I'm cocky with it 

It's hard for you to admit it, but I'm one of the best in it 

Photos 

[Chorus] 

[Killah Priest] 

My mind is haunted, filled with the extension of slaves that's torment 

Slow down my steps, one foot from the grave to con it 

Our young black males, they lick pon gate 

Son of the morning, roasted souls, tell Minister "come pray" 

It's gun trade inside of smokey apartments 

Flow process, one nine, two tech, four revolvers 

Coke overballing kettels, it's like we struck oil in the ghetto's 

We supply it to addict's, the devil work 

He practice, he's like a search backwards 

Til they throw that dirt in our casket, and that's it 

I live where the fiends are nothin', just a scene of the projects, similar to 

Osama's 

An old man, at the top of the stairs, he just stare 

'cause his mind ain't there, victim of the war 

Polar signs, the times is near 

He drop the jewels, til you buy him a beer 

He said he was a linebacker for the Bears 

Said he did it all back, while he's dryin' his tear 

Yeah, it's that real shit, that made me 

That music from the '80's, the child's of the '70's 

I live long til they bury me...