Jay Electronica - The Neverending Story
Дата добавления: 02 апреля 2020
Формат: mp3
Исполнители: Jay Electronica
Битрейт: 320 Kbps
Размер: 9.95 Mb
Продолжительность: 04:21
Просмотры: 0
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Текст песни
[Verse 1: Jay Electronica]
Have you ever heard the tale of
The noblest of gentlemen who rose up from squalor?
Tall, dark, and decked out in customary regalia,
Smellin' like paraphernalia,
Hailin' from the home of Mahalia.
His uptown smile was gold like a 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 up-shift to 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 horns 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.
Gip-gip-giggity, Alchemist put the icing on the soliloquy,
Let it be forever known that I niced up to pen something considerably,
Jay Electollah Flomeini 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 filet 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 a lecture
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.
[Verse 2: JAY-Z]
I'm a miracle, born with imperial features,
I'm a page turner, sage burner, Santeria,
Chongón, December baby, my Orishas,
Saint Hov, story takes place in ancient Egypt,
They'll cut off the nose to spite their face, they'll steal ya Jesus,
I can't tell Hattie White that blue-eyed version 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 had straighten combs, little did they know
I hold the heat next,
Neither two, 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!
[Outro: The-Dream]
I tried to turn a page over a zillion times.
Have you ever heard the tale of
The noblest of gentlemen who rose up from squalor?
Tall, dark, and decked out in customary regalia,
Smellin' like paraphernalia,
Hailin' from the home of Mahalia.
His uptown smile was gold like a 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 up-shift to 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 horns 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.
Gip-gip-giggity, Alchemist put the icing on the soliloquy,
Let it be forever known that I niced up to pen something considerably,
Jay Electollah Flomeini 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 filet 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 a lecture
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.
[Verse 2: JAY-Z]
I'm a miracle, born with imperial features,
I'm a page turner, sage burner, Santeria,
Chongón, December baby, my Orishas,
Saint Hov, story takes place in ancient Egypt,
They'll cut off the nose to spite their face, they'll steal ya Jesus,
I can't tell Hattie White that blue-eyed version 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 had straighten combs, little did they know
I hold the heat next,
Neither two, 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!
[Outro: The-Dream]
I tried to turn a page over a zillion times.
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