T-bone - Last Street Preacha


My lyrics phat like Don Cartagena, you never seen a

Latino Rapper pick up the mic and eat MC's like gelatine

From the Bay area down to Argentina

I be slangin the gospel in crack houses like it was cocina

Mira mija, la firme linya de rao familia

No son Gallinas, killin them demons is a misdemeanah

So we ain't scared of y'all, we lived above the law

Now we got pimps, addicts, thugs

And these hustlas at the altar call

Prayin, sayin thing like forgive me for my evil ways then

Get off their knees and be delievered from 12 years of blazin

Praisin tha Name of Christ, ain't scared to give my life away

For the one who died on the cross and saved

Me when my life was triff, now its alright

God wrote these lyrics, peep the copyright

Buildin an army in a world that dark, so we can bring the light

Raisin veteranos Cristianos that we call hermanos

Deadly like rattle snakes but worse when mics are in our manos

In my cara, no dicen nada, puro Amenasadas

Wack envyous rappers wanna bite like a thousand paranhas

I bring tha heat like a thousand sauna

Filled wit Cubana mammas from Havana

Oye como va, when I rock like Santana


One of the last street preachas left, poet assasin [what]

Scarface in the flesh, straight ou the west

Where they ride on their enemies

Striptease, pour out liqour for tha diseased

And jack for car keys



I stay humble and meak

Get on my knees and wash my brethern's feet

You quick to speak and judge, I quick to turn the other cheek

Forgive my foes, 479 times and add 11

Just to equal 70 times 7, Rap Reverend

Preachin, sermons to those thugs livin

Killin, sinnin, feelin that they can be forgiven

Ghetto prison is where they livin, so I make incisions

Cut to the heart, then operate tell em tha sons Arizon

If you ain gettin what I be spittin

Get me grab my weapons

Sawed off K.J.V. wit 66 bullets made for hittin

Straight to the heart, we wrestle not against flesh and blood

Saved thugs, blastin thugs wit God's love

Pump pump you get stucked when I dump

Sawed off, the old man get's hualed off

And thats the way its comin out the west side

Yo I'm preachin Jesus Christ crucified



What up mamma, its that Rap Papa

Don Dadda, the one who used to smoke grama

From Nicaragua, sip champana, hollerin ay caramba

Now Ima redeemed hoodlum tellin em Cristo te ama

Ima bring the drama like Tony Montana

Cuz when demons step to me

They get cut worse then shrimp at BenniHannas

Back in the days hittin weed, smokin roaches

But we ain't no playas, tellin why, we some coaches

I get ferocious then I bury all you cockroaches

Get bent of the Holy Ghost and take it by the doses

A super-california-lyricist-p-alidocious

Bibles in my holsters, seen me on the posters

Devil outlined in chalk, I walk the walk and talk the talk

Jehovah knows this

Being a Christians on a day 2 day forget the half way

Cant holler praise the LORD, then smoke and sip the alizay

Or tangaree or you'll get blown up like a hand gernade

I ain't afraid, I slit the devil's throat wit my switch blade


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