The Offering

Uh, try on your robe, man

Yeah, it fits

It fits me too

I like this, Emperor

Priesthood, the offering is now brung to him

Show us how you do this, talent

(What the fuck is this?)

It's like this, look

Nonchalantly, I plant the words in the brain like ganja seeds

Horizontally, the way I write, Gandhi

Beneath a palm trees, calm breeze

Like the summer in the late 40's

Before the mob kick in the door

Of the don, squeezing automatic Tommies

I'm blazing gory, that's how he lays, a lamp shade

Duke Ellington played, the screen starts to fade

Cut in the story, yo, the next one opens up

Soda cups, a bottle of Grey Goose

In a room full of Applejack hats, cocked ace-deuce

San Remo lace boots tapping the floor, a lit cigar

Goons got my pops pinned up with gats to his jaw

He said, "Where is the child said to come from the Nile?

Now in the PJs," he paused the feet race, did a line

'Bout to be sublime, but the kid is ahead of his time

He turns Kool-Aid into red wine

Besides that, he professes he should be the next king of BK

Sniff, besides Kane, Big, and Jay, GZA was underrated

But still, the words from the genius was the best stated

I ain't scared to say it

Back in the days we had groups like the Disc Masters

Rest in peace Mike Ski, Part Time Hustler, Rule to me

Divine Sounds, Disco Richie, and Shelton D

I take it back, what people do for money

Money, money, money, money

Pay your tithes and your offerings

This goes out to my **** in them closed coffins

OGs who was coke-snorting

On death row, dead men walking

And them mothers never had abortions

Pay your tithes and your offerings

This goes out to my **** in them closed coffins

OGs who was coke-snorting

On death row, dead men walking

And them mothers never had abortions

Yo, I come to bring y'all ass-whippings

Rappers, this y'all disaster, as is written

He has risen, with MAC slugs, AK shells

A mask and gloves, and Mayday Hell, a basket thug

And hollow be thy tip

Anoint your forehead and empty a clip for the average y'all spit

And I hold my pen like a syringe

Inject my paper with the thoughts of a gangster

Scene three, bullets sail through his tuxedo

He fall for dead in the corner of the cathedral

Doves flock to the ceiling chirping

The murder of a Godfather is just my version of Todd Turpin

Rest upon a God's dome

Science study the structures of my jawbone

It's similar to the great pharaohs

But I dealt with the streets and space travel

Big Priest from the Ace Apple

Pay your tithes and your offerings

This goes out to my **** in them closed coffins

OGs who was coke-snorting

On death row, dead men walking

And them mothers never had abortions

Pay your tithes and your offerings

This goes out to my **** in them closed coffins

OGs who was coke-snorting

On death row, dead men walking

And them mothers never had abortions

See the offering is pureness

Straight up hip-hop, that's what I'm giving, you know?

Yo hold up, man

Yo Priest, what happened to peace?

Oh, oh yeah

Peace, peace, peace, peace, peace

Words of the don

Yo, Angel