| My pen’s the goggle lens, rap is ATVs
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| Hopping over sand dunes of mans' dooms
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| The grip’ll tell where a killer dwells
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| Hides out in Cancun, fucking Spanish women
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| Tanning in sands his hands is trembling from rubbing lotion on her
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| On nude beach, two freaks, she’s a goner
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| From street corners with heat on us
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| Come horseback riding with a tyrant who loves whores
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| But acts violent, he lures old women inside tents
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| Gets the knife in, slicing, it’s trifling
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| Lighting, spells out letters as he streak across the skies
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| Come snowboard with the Ghost Lord
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| This what I wrote for, this what the horoscope saw
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| Soar from out a celestial academy
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| Look at the tree of life diagram see Priest’s anatomy
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| From the medieval family called the Maccabeez
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| I grew up, left the Abbotcy, now they call me «Your Majesty»
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| Don’t be mad at me; |
| I’m just a deity
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| I took on an alias
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| Cause we can’t pronounce the true name of the aliens
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| The African-Aborigine-Israelien, King Arthurian
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| Half-Nazarian, half-celestrian barbarian
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| The Sefer Yetzirah cards said Priest is a God
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| Go ahead read them all, you’ll still see me as Lord!
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| Father’s Enoch, my Mother’s the Sephirot
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| Blessed, born naked near a barn in a dessert
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| Placed in the arms of a shepherd
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| I let the truth loose, before I take exit
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| Laugh to myself, how y’all calling me Walter? |
| Body never dies
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| It just turns to the white suds on top of ocean water
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| The transformation of my lines, the transmigration of the mind
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| See what’s in mine, a seed full of rhymes
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| Magicking classics, tablets go way past time
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| The Moon is for season, the comets for signs
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| When I’m writing, I have actual sightings
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| Come bring the good tidings, my offerings is essential
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| Take a glimpse into my view of my mental
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| I’m washing in the lonely streams
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| The blood stain cloth, king on his horse
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| Only in my dreams he would talk
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| Telling me this is Hell, just leave
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| He was compelling showing me the music industry
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| My records not selling, my ruins and the end of me eventually
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| Said if I don’t go back, the road is black, the crows attack
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| I step back, spoke in a rap then formed into a Golden Axe
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| Blood and feathers, it seems like we fought forever
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| The skies turned terror, his eyes and flesh turned leper
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| Then I turn to this heffer, she told me «the skeletal figure
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| Rides a white horse slowly across the fields, this means end change
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| Accept that life is cyclical and that you’re lyrical immortality»
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| Then I saw morgues around me, it got cloudy
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| She walked away, paused, she said «justice will be yours
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| A fair decision will be made in your favor», then I transformed into a gangster
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| (Priest), can’t believe that I wrote this on paper
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| (Stranger, damn, stranger, damn) |