Killah Priest - Turn Around lyrics

[Intro: Killah Priest]

Yeah, uh-huh, back again

The Priesthood, yeah, brought it

We up in here now, it's time to eat

Gotta look at myself, want ya'll to turn around

Watch this, yo

[Chorus x4: sample]

Turn around, every now and then

I get a little bit lonely

You're never coming back..

[Killah Priest]

Alone and thinkin', zonin'

Then I pick up my ink pen and hold it

Like the bullet that went in, they blinkin', I'm frozen

Stuck between time, the pass and the present

From early adolesence, to fiends that's crashin' and beggin'

A pad is my blessin' with it, I'm addin' my lessons, so vivid

Through life, things I've done wrong, and do right

I had a few nights, of comin' in drunk, fightin' with punks

At club, writin' to front, stomp it with gloves

Cats pumpin' they drugs on Ave., I jumped in the cab

Head to the lab, grab my pen and my pad, feel the wind draft

Dump the insensce ash inside the hour glass

Watchin' it slowly slippin' as I drift in the past

Watchin' the secret sands, remind me the extinction of man

If we don't unite, I'll think of plans

The king is a hand, the handwriting's on the wall of the project halls

In graffiti, written like swahili

All harmonic, Priest is like a god when he speaks

Plants his feet on the ground, wore the crown

All of ya'll turn around, baby

[Chorus x4: w/ ad-libs]

[Killah Priest]

My verse runs deep like smack through a veteran's vein

See cats on the train beggin' for change

Need medicine for they pain, I'm in heavy rain

Sweat testin' my aim, carve in my bullets with the president's name

Destined to reign, feel guns bust while cats discuss

About the gats they bust, and loyalty among employees

The more weed, the more they mind's stay freed

The more the nines get squeezed, the more the crime leads

The more they blind me, push that light far behind me

I seeked ashanti's and monks in the hills, I dwelled months for real

No deal, but still hold the steel

Sometimes I spaz out, pull my pad out

Then my pad sprouts to a crackhouse, filled with drug dealers

Some thugs, some killers, my pen's a paintbrush

Colorin' the old school cats with gangstas

For every word that I print on paper

Is like a proverb from a prince in Asia

[Chorus to fade w/ ad-libs]