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"Millenium Warfare (Alt. Take)" lyrics by BRONZE NAZARETH
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"Millenium Warfare (Alt. Take)"
[feat. Hell Razah, Killah Priest]

[Intro: Razah]
Yeah, Renaissance Child, Priesthood
Make sure your turban cover your face

[Chorus x2: Razah]
Air it out, cock and squeeze, give me some room to breath
We be those Huey P's, watching over little seeds
Air it out, cock and squeeze, bow, salute the kings
This for my Maccabeez, throwing up angel wings

[Hell Razah:]
I pass desert eagles to the last Hebrews
Who got knowledge of the good and evil
We see through the deceitful
With eyes like a young Ezekiel
The holy people, addicted to a dope needle
The prophecy of a black male was crack sales
We rebel after hearing Jordan Maxwell
So I act like Fidel over Israel
All hail to the nephew of Ismael
I raise Hell, anywhere, any hood that I dwell
Wake up to hearing shootouts and gun smells, burning an L
We went from plain-men dwelling in tents, to paying rent
In the project that smell like a pissy snake pit
Put on your war paint, fatigues and brand new Timbs
Get your glocks out the box and let's shoot off limbs
And these snakes when they grin in their two-door Benz
I'm underground, no spins and I still got wins
How many records you gon' make about you sitting on rims?
We grown men, better step up your game and drop gems
This ain't Mos Def, Kweli, Nas or Common
I'm a Sun of Man, Maccabee brand, so pay homage
No conflict, just happen we black and be conscious
Any comments? Can't help it we're raised in violence
I'm just honest, true generals move in silence
So when you talk a whole lot you abuse my kindness

[Killah Priest:]
I write rolls of films of old gems
From 70 dudes that kick shit sharp or cool
(Whadup baby?)
Drop jewels like in all colors
Polka dots words that shine like disco balls
Who said "It ain't nothing like when negros war"
It's like Miles and Cicely Tyson
Witness me writing, my autobiography on how God came to me
Broken hearted from women and sinning in cold apartments
Bosses catching charges
Fathers nodding with belts around their arms drift
Thinking they're Kings till they wake from out the garbage
With paramedics listen if their heart skips
It's the projects, my people living darkness
It's Jesus Christ, Welfare and health benefits
Babies crying, mother beefing once winter hits
I don't need a string; all I need is more ink
So I can write about the way I think
These days they linked like chains around my neck
My pen and my pad I found a new respect, feel me?

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