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 You're here » Music Lyrics Index » T » T-Bone » The Last Street Preacha » Last Street Preacha Lyrics

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Album: The Last Street Preacha
Track: Last Street Preacha

Last Street Preacha Lyrics

My lyrics phat like Don Cartagena, you never seen
Latino Rapper pick up the mic and eat MC's like
From the Bay area down to Argentina
I be
Slangin the gospel in crack houses like it was cocina
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
Praisin tha Name of Christ, ain't scared to
Give my life away
For the one who died on the cross and
Me when my life was triff, now its alright
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
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
Striptease, pour out liqour for tha diseased
And jack for car keys

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
Just to equal 70 times 7, Rap Reverend
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
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


What up
Mamma, its that Rap Papa
Don Dadda, the one who used to
Smoke grama
From Nicaragua, sip champana, hollerin ay
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
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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