The Neverending Story

A bunny can, su espectro Have you ever heard the tale of The noblest of gentlemen rose up from squalor Tall, dark, and decked out in custom-made regalia Smellin' like paraphernalia Hailin' from the home of Mahalia His uptown smile was gold like of Frankie Beverly Day His favorite song from Prince was not, "Raspberry Beret" It was, "Sometimes It Snows In April" He was brought up by the faithful In the cage of every unclean bird, ungrateful and hateful The legend of the clandestine reverend from the Bricks With the master's grip to pull the sleeping giant out the ditch And I ain't even have to wiggle my nose like Bewitched I just upshift the six, convert the V4 to a broomstick Though I tarry through the valley of death, my Lord give me pasture If you want to be a master in life, you must submit to a master I was born to lock arms with the devil at the brink of the hereafter Me, the socket, the plug and universal adapter The prodigal son who went from his own vomit To the top of the mountain with five pillars and a sonnet The autobiography read Quranic Spread love like Kermit the Frog that permeate the fog I'm at war like the Dukes of Hazard against the Bosses of the Hogs Gi-Gi-Giggity, Alchemist put the icing on the soliloquy Let it be forever known that I niced up to pen something considerably Jay Elec' told the flow mainly is support mainly The fatwa he issued on al-Shayṭān was delivered plainly It's the day of Qiyāmah To the believers, I bring you tidings of joy But if you want beef, I'll fillet mignon ya You could catch me bummy as fuck or decked out in designer On I-10 West to the desert on a Diavel like a recliner Listen to everything from Electra From the honorable minister Louis Farrakhan To Serge Gainsbourg or Madonna or a podcast on Piranhas What a time we livin' in, just like the scripture says Earthquakes, fires and plagues, the resurrection of the dead I'm a miracle, born with imperial features I'm a page turner, sage burner, santeria Chongón, December baby, Mauritius Saint Hov, story takes place in ancient Egypt They'll cut off the nose to spite their face, they'll steal yo' Jesus I can't Tahiti White that blued-eyed virgin is make believe stuff She throw me out the house, say ye deliver us from this heathen I say that to Ms. Tina, she'll sneeze at sun, her photic reflex They both have straightening combs, little did they know I hold the heat next Neither tool, can be used to fix our defects P.S: we born perfect, fuck all the B.S Everybody wanna be us for real, we just gotta see us Insha'Allah I tried to turn a page, over a zillion times