| I have predicted events before they have occurred
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| As a child with a special gift, I swore the wind spoke
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| As I awoke from dreams of a real life which I couldn’t seem to obtain
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| Only pain chasin' shadows in the day
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| And at night it was even worse
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| Submerged in a, coma-type chaos wonderin' from which my talent came
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| Worshippin' idols with many names, I lusted for change
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| Granted an intuition beyond human definition
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| Hurdling my barren living conditions
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| Screamin' for someone to listen, pushin the limits of man’s superstition
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| My body deformed, my brain suffered lack of nutrition
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| Labeled a dreamer with no sense of what is or isn’t
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| One theory, I’m the son of a witch’s covenant
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| If you could name a spirit then with my pen, I can summon it
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| Some people say, I’m evil as you gonna get
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| Others say my parents were experimented on by the government
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| There’s certain things I write if the world knew they’d be amazed
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| I got their entire lives in my notebook and I’m the author of the last page
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| But please God don’t punish me
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| Make bad things happen to kids who made fun of me
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| Heard Nostradamus, he like the son of me
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| Some people come to me, said they seen me in a vision
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| All over the world they bow, and I ain’t even religious
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| It’s weird for me to live this, the spirits in my lyrics
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| Sometimes they reveal shit that, I don’t wanna know like
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| Kennedy, Saddam, Vietnam, Bills of Congress
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| All my life somethin wasn’t right the night they took Christopher Wallace
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| I’ve wandered through the corpses, of Hiroshima also in Auschwitz
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| I’ve been chased out of Rome by priests with crosses
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| Air Forces have reported, seen my image project, astrally
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| I’m the chemical make up in the universe tapestry
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| Half of me, cries for this condition of man
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| Stay poison the land, I’m not sure of which position to stand
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| But take me by the hand, the Poison Pen offers resurrection
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| Shrouded in darkness with no heaven protection
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| You lay in the aftermath of he who laughs last
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| Now I have written it, so it shall come to pass
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| Conversations with God, one day I thought I saw you
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| In the midst of angels burning on fire in Egyptian soil
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| The moon blighted, red the dead, speakin' in original tongue
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| That I only understood the sound, the work has now begun
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| Hounds after the blood of your servant, the serpents circle my feet
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| As I glide towards the steps of the Vatican, your Majesty
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| You gave me the key to cover the land with the sea
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| I excavate the lost tablets that contain five more commandments
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| Abandonment of your second-born child down the Nile
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| Misplaced him in Jersey, it taught him survival
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| You guide my hand as I write the modern Bible
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| Not to denounce the first one but after I finish writin' mine it’s final
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| I scream of rage that’s primal, sneaking up your spinal
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| I speak it slow and clear so you can press it up on vinyl
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| My death is comin soon, for the love of savages
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| And what I say will be translated into many languages
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| Some say I’m crazy cause I’m John Doe by choice
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| But God speaks to the children through the use of my voice
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| I’m somethin different to everyone and refuse to do what many have done
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| I’m the reincarnation of Adam but you knew that from day one
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| No need for me to get mad, it’s my time to heal them
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| And if I have an enemy, the Lord God will kill them
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| And my job will be done until all time is done
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| I’m made from the very same clay that God begot his own son
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| The Poison Pen
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| Yo, the Poison Pen
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| The Poison Pen
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| Yo, yeah, the tragedy of Poison Pen |