| The king is alive and twenty million strong
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| And long before he ever ascended to his throne
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| He was made fun of, a source of great humor
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| His domination over neighborhoods was nothing but rumor
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| The reason I felt black kids was headed for a fall
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| Was the day I read this poem painted in the bathroom stall
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| «Fuck a man in the butt and you could get it for sure
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| Pass a dope needle around and there wasn’t no cure»
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| The kids believed if you wasn’t gay and you didn’t shoot dope
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| You was home free, take the day off and float
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| But what would always make the king seem so tough
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| Is that he could get in and then take five years to show back up
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| And you can go scream at them until you get hoarse
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| But they don’t understand about King Henry the Fourth
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| He was no more than a whisper in gay after-hours spots
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| If there are no bloodless revolutions, why hadn’t he fired a shot?
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| Sunday mornings from the pulpit, he was blamed on promiscuity
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| More confusing newspaper bullshit only furthered the ambiguity
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| Preachers became obsessed in calling him, «A message from above»
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| The creature’s game progressed, since nobody knew exactly who the fuck he was
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| Completely taking over areas that had never seen royalty
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| But soon millions on five continents could all pledge their loyalty
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| The invisible monarch was steady doing his thing
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| He never heard folks once saying, «Hail to the king»
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| But he’s got powers you can’t help but endorse
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| And the Africans call him, «King Henry the Fourth» |