Observers

Yea, uh huh Charon Don, Hands Down
(Uh, Killah Priest the Iron Sheik, nigga!)

[Charon Don]
Yo, you talking to a serious thug
I get serious love
Even when I stay in the pad
Like period blood experience drugs
Street grudge infamous buzz
Sent from above Devils catch infinite slugs
All my Rebels came from Zion bang with giants
Made from the same grain that you gave the science
Same all violence maintaining
Same all clients, lames deny it
Why you think my brains defy it?
Smoking backwoods in the back woods 'cause I'm that hood
Strap in crack in my back, it could crack wood
Take your life like crack could
An epidemic; created by your government to get extra spinach
Now I'm stressed to spit it
Collect the check to live it
I'm just blessed never pressed by the press
Or critics never the less
Yo my rep is vivid
Homey left with the best get with it
Before it's too late
I can either lose fate or choose to wait
'Cause the new debate is who will choose your fate
And poor people don't make the decision
Poor people just hate to be living

(Chorus) x 2
On the roof puffing cigars look up at the stars
It could be your man fucking your broad
Passing you dust in your car
Calling us the observers
Silent weapons for these quiet murders
Silent weapons for these quiet murders

[Killah Priest]
I lay back shuffling thoughts while puzzling pieces
Guzzling coughs while pressing my features
On my cell, hell, number reads area code '412'
A message from Charon "Priest come through"
Wait a minute that's Pittsburgh
Where niggas twist herb and sip suryp
Flip birds and 'Do Not Disturb' on their door
Every lips are heard better observe
If you don't you get your shit split on the curb
But I'm from New York where crews talk by who got caught
By cops, who got shot? For coming a few short
Bosses talk to bosses 'til they're concealed in the coffin
Surrounded by graveyard mud in crucifixes crosses
To my killas in Boston, my dealers and Oregon
Hands out for the Lord and they reaching for offerings
Angels crouching over us the streets are unable hold us up
We in rat racing and the system is a cobra clutch
Gangsters and Killas, the strangest of niggas
Brushing shoulders with death and you think he's familiar
To killah, straight shots AK pops
Niggas yell "system is hell" mirrors held between bars
Nurses putting vaseline on scars in jail
When we hear sirens coming from cars we bail niggas
Yea, Killah Priest nigga, uh Charon the God

(Chorus) x 2

[Charon Don]
Yo, yo, I'm in the alley way sipping Alizé like I'm out L.A
And you already know what I'm pulling out this spray
Like you already know what I'm about to say
When I flow I blow you best get out the way
Like C-4 sisters wanna see more
Nigga shook like seizures all my triggers seen war
But this ain't gang bang shoot 'em up music
This that P-Town dope-game shoot it up music
From the Burg where dem Steelers is deep
On the curb next to killas and freaks
On the verge I'm ah be killing this beat
Where sermons served from a real Killah Priest
I might, in turn, kill a priest
Charon Don is real as he speaks
You as dumb as a blonde
You can't chill wit the elite
Fo'real, I'm so ill I wrote my will before I sleep
Take a pill before I eat
You still ignore the pork and meat
Be the rich at heart, built a spliff, and spark
Until I get a deal I really can't deal with the charts
I'm in debt, If I'm sent the bill I rip it apart
You impressed, If I get a mil I'm flipping smart
Take it back to the ghetto where they need it the most
Believe it!, I mean it, I'll leave it for the season old folks
For the needy, but never greedy, my ingredients wrote
I'll leave it in quotes, just so it's not a secrete to most

(Chorus) x 2