Bop Your Head lyrics

[Intro: Killah Priest]
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah - f*ck that!
I'm set it off - yeah, yeah, ya sh*tted
Ya in some sh*t now, son
It's on now, motherf*ckers can suck my di*k
I'm back! f*ck that sh*t!
Ready to eat n*ggas up, beat they ass and e'rything, son
I'ma prove this sh*t, right here
Me and my n*gga - what!?

[Verse 1: Killah Priest]
The emperor, chief sinister, street minister
Guarenteed in two bars to finish ya
React like a cat when he arches back
Give a fake rapper a heart attack, once I start to rap
I'm a vocalist, n*gga, supposed to rip
Last Poet's told me this, hit you in your head with my explosive fist
Then I finish you off with my tremendous horse-kick
What now, n*gga? Look at you, talk sh*t
Can't do it 'cause you ain't got no teeth in your mouth
And I know you just tired of me beating you out
Trained all year in a karate class
It took one second, to put your ass in a body bag
From a shotty blast, I walk up in the club, your parties don't last
I like to pop sh*t, don't get me started
I slap y'all motherf*ckers like y'all little kids in kindergarten
Squeeze your head till your kidneys harden
Now watch this, I'ma call my whole motherf*ckin' squadron
And tell n*ggas to just start robbin'
'Cause y'all n*ggas is f*cked up
And Brooklyn n*ggas is really ready to get you
I know how to hit you, and cut you open
But don't worry 'cause I'ma stitch ya, with a rusty screwdriver
[Chorus: Killah Priest]
n*ggas bop your heads to this, real sh*t
Call up your clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in your streets and village
Spare that new sh*t, Priest killed it
n*ggas bop your heads to this, real sh*t
Call up your clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in your streets and village
Spare that new sh*t, Bus killed it

[Verse 2: Canibus]
Yo, yo, yo, yo I'm a Macabeast MC and I possess the ability
To run at top speed without bending my knees
I destroy sh*t, pinpoint asteroids in orbit
Then, hurl n*ggas thousands of miles an hour towards it
f*ckin' heathens, wrap my hands around your neck region
Then I start squeezing 'til you stop breathin'
You weaklings is playing tug-of-war with your tongues
I knock the teeth out your gums and suck the breeze out your lungs
Hit you with a blow your physical frame could never sustain
You'll probably never walk ever again
n*gga, you think you rhyme sick? I leave you lying stiff
Put you in a HRSMN heimlich and break your spine, b*tch
Stop crying b*tch, before I hit you with the iron, b*tch
You can't rhyme b*tch, the one triple nine's mine b*tch
The pain'll make your voice change octaves
From low-pitched to high-pitched, every hour we kill a hostage
We judge MCs by their lyrical fitness
And punish DJs for putting corny stickers on their mixes
Smack the stripper b*tches for askin for our autograph and pictures
You'll be scared to leave the club with us
You scratch my back, I'll scratch your's b*tch
I'll eat ya salt-fish, if ya suck my sausage
I got an atomic sub, armed wit a sub-atomic scud
Ready to spill your crimson-colored blood
The Four Horsemen on the back of four quadripeds
Putting four hoof prints on your foreheads, motherf*ckers!
(There it is!) So bop your heads to that, uh (There it is!)
[Chorus: Killah Priest]
n*ggas bop your heads to this, real sh*t
Call up your clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in your streets and village
Spare that new sh*t, Priest killed it
n*ggas bop your heads to this, real sh*t
Call up your clicks to this, it's realness
You feel this in your streets and village
Spare that new sh*t, Bus killed it

[Outro: Killah Priest]
f*ckin' pus*y emcees gon' get a shot in the eye
Y'all n*ggas talk behind n*gga's backs
Y'all n*ggas better bop your motherf*ckin' heads before we blow it off
Ya f*ckin perfume missin idiots
Y'all n*ggas always running, go run and tell that
Go on, running, run behind somebody's back
Run and tell that and take these f*cking slugs with ya
We gon' get ya mothaf*ckin clown
Yea...