Artist: Blue Sky Black Death & Hell Razah f/ Crooked I
Album:  Razah's Ladder
Song:   Halos
Typed by: Tha Masta

[Hell Razah]
Knock, knock, who is it? I'm back
Stop the gimmicks, I pop-pop the biscuit and shut down ya businesses (BLAM!)
They wanna whitewash, scan, copy my image
Why I became a menace cuz I found my limits?
Spit it, open up the book of life and seen my name in it
Same sentence showed my wages of death if I ain't livin'
Ask the Lord for forgiveness of sins, that I committed
Even Solomon predicted you can't die with your riches
Of course, don't pillow talk when you lie with them bitches
Each verse be worth money like Egyptian pictures
It got worse since the Bush's took that torch from Hitler
Pour out liquor for my dead comrades, I ain't forget ya
And, a lot of sex but I'm not puligaler
I'm livin' hip-hop, son you just a visitor (BLAM!)
A lot of faces and the names are similar
I build with the O.G.'s down to superiors
Yeah...

[Hook: Dead Prez samples cut and scratched]
"Fuck the system" "The beast they put parole on 'em"
"Bust ya pistol" "When you see the five-oh"
"Fuck the system" "The beast they put parole"
"Bust ya pistol" "When you see the five-oh"

[Interlude: Hell Razah]
This is how we do it, man...
Bed-stuy where you at baby?

[Crooked I]
I sit in the dark with my dead homies obituary pictures
They talk to me while I'm writin' these literary scriptures
Sayin': "Crooked, don't let the police/military get ya"
I tell 'em: "Before I do I be in the cemetary wit ya"
Militant mama, she was down with the Panthers
Picture me and Baby G in a dashiki and Pamper's
I was the face of the pamplets, man, the black future
But nowadays niggaz gats shoot ya, fuck it, I clap Rugers
My Nina's singin' like fat Luthor
Vandross, the damn boss bringin' that blap blap to ya
C.O.B. is a religion, listen I meant it
Everything I'm spittin' was written with hidden symbolism in it
Infinite wisdom hittin' in intricate sentences I'm spittin'
Cryptic as hieroglyphics, thought they figured it but they didn't
West Coast Pharaoh, killas on the payroll
Twenties on my chariot, dodgin' blue Halos

Aiyo, you feel me out there?
What's up Razah? Mama raised a Hell Razah
Ya know...

[Hook]

[Hell Razah]
In this modern era we be a terror, black Che Guevara's
On wax we like anthrax wrapped in a letter
My beretta is for the slaves with forgetten graves
Like the names of Dread Scott, I'm aimin' with headshots
Let's scope some red dots on old predjudice cops
On plot on dope blocks with coke measurement drops
There's more drugs to schools for kids with no pops
My hood be like the cemetary, they gave us project tombstones and sanctuaries
It's for the kids outside that's in the military
No matter black or Isaeli, they both want us buried
It's a war outside, I hope you gettin' ready
Get off ya celly and stand up and grab a semi-
automatic, cuz Mama raised a Hell Razah like Makeveli

I'd like to pour out some holy water
for all the thug patriots we've been missin'...

[Movie sample from "Boondock Saints"]
"One day you will look behind you and you will see we three
And on that day, you will reap it..."
"And we will send you to whatever God you wish"
"And shepherds we shall be, For thee my lord for thee.
Power has descended forth from thy hand,
that our feet may swiftly carry out thy commands.
So we shall flow a river forth to thee,
and teeming with souls shall it ever be"
"In nomine Patri"
"Et Fili" {*gun cocks*}
"Spiritus Sancti" {*gunshot*}