| With the righteous sword of justice
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| And we will follow him all the days of our life
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| We are one, we move as a unit, this is our mic, we are one!
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| The plot was to stop the Nazarene break up his black regime
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| Smash his dreams from being the greatest that rap has seen
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| They laugh while scheming on ways to stop him having cream
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| That’s blasphemy to not mention his name in magazines
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| Luckily the young warrior had mad esteem
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| He kept writing, back in his lab he hit his pad extreme
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| And in the midst of all the chaos he took half his team
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| Called 'em Black Market and Maccabeez
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| While the serpent use the worldly things to attract his queen
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| Broke his heart she played the part Mary Magdalene
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| Hissing his words that the other side of the grass was green
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| But I ain’t trying to hold you baby go ahead flap your wings
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| Gun in the waist of his baggy jeans stayed strapped
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| Yankee cap above his durag lean
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| Police that pass flash sirens outside his projects
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| Where the dealers push crack to fiends
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| There he did some soul searching now he’s back redeemed
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| Look at his album cover stained glass of the King
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| Wallpapers of gangsters hang up
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| Next to King Solomon Amen Ra and King Tut
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| Beneath that incense burns frank incense the fragrance of the prince
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| Priests the saint the angels fight in his defense light the hemp
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| It’s bright take a glimpse at the crouching statues
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| Within the tall fence of his castle
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| (Hook)
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| I called on Michael, Gabriel and Uriel to pull me from Hell
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| A jury of twelve await my burial
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| They said they want my great material
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| My vision blurry can’t tell I hear the bells near the church steeple
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| Where Rafael awaits his fate break the curse of evil
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| I’m holding rosemary beads it’s scary roll the hairy weed
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| Inside the blackberry leaves
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| Its cold but what worries me will my crew leave when they bury me come hurry see
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| The Brotherhood climbing a hillside at the fall of darkness
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| The night arches over the projects
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| As they speak of the legacy of Priest the artist
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| They share words of his hardship
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| And he sung his psalms to a harpist
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| His garment was blood soaked
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| Around his crown he wore halo of blunt smoke below his navel his guns poked
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| So may this Offering give your thoughts wings?
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| May it fly high start soaring pass the corpse of kings
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| Beyond the cloud scraping mountains, travel the way of the falcon
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| To a tucked away enchanted Island
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| You land see the ruins of his old palace
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| The wide stone steps that leads to his throne
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| You see his face made of hard stone, he just sit there and zone
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| My eyes are open but they’re empty as the painted eyes on a doll
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| Walk inside the fog sit beside my catalogue
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| See his face? |
| It aged to something strange come in range
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| Upon his sculpture grows weed vines with small rosebuds
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| So show love to the Priest revelations and this is my salvations
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| This is my salvation
|
| (Chant)
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| (Hook)
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| 'King of Mysteries, who wast and art
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| Before the elements, before the ages
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| King eternal, comely in aspect
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| who reigns forever, grant me three things:
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| Keenness to discern your will
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| Wisdom to understand it
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| Courage to follow where it leads.'
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| «Salvation isn’t just about being saved from Hell after you die.
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| It’s also about being saved from yourself while you’re still alive.» |