Killah Priest — Ningishzidda

[Verse 1] The god of the glorious sons, the terrible ones Grant me your genetic powers, the guardians come Ishtar, Buddha, rulers The armies I'm from is super My pen touch the pad, it turns nuclear My words become fewer I’m now in the future as I'm channeling The Tetragrammaton start unraveling I stop Thor at the door, no hammers in Y'all started fights, I started wars, Samson men I emerge from out of bitter herbs When I was born, I was given myrrh And after I diе, I’ll be the living word Chapters and scribеs, hymns and verbs I'm the aloe vera of the Sahara Follow the cherubs, I'll be swallowed by the terror Mulattos ride through Morocco with Arabs Blessing those who perished, whose faces were reddish Where spacemen wear goggles from the cosmo era We come for the natives Like those from Toronto in ponchos, the people Monsanto hated And those from the slave-ships And everyone else who they known or related Bone to my bone, flesh in my flesh, left alone there naked Just follow my tone on the microphone as we spin like a record The pain I sketch on paper Make echinacea stretch around the gangsta As flower petals fall over the devil I'll have ‘em grabbing God's heel as I put a crown on the savior And the seraphims are covered with Mexican [?] That's a rare herb used by Central and South Americans Used during temple service Ritual incense-burning Offerings for the deceased Thus say of the Lord God, Lord Sun, the album from Killah Priest [Verse 2] In the abode of the righteous and balanced universe I spew this verse 'til they build my tomb in the dirt As they're mummified and our face move with a smirk ‘cause I know I’ve written for those who’ve been hurt, with balance and brilliance Bestowing the governorship for all, I put my blood in this script My life and true testament at my descent now into the seats of worship The [?] of darkness and many titles of nobility to the unknown Killa Bee Wisdom of the wing writer The pen in my palm is a wand in a ring of fire I wave it, my pages turn to doves and blue stripes I take each one, place ‘em on the stand of my mic Some on the stand of my light It's magic, understand how I write It’s not rapping, my face and my hands become bright A long pause as my jaws become tight It's all done Lord Sun