The Neverending Story

Have you ever heard the tale of

The noblest of gentlemen who rose up from squalor?

Tall dark and decked out in customary regalia

Smelling like paraphernalia

Hailing 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 noise like Bewitched

I just up shift to 6, convert the v4 into a broomstick

Though I tarry the valley of death

My Lord give me pasture

If you wanna 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 Hazzard 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 the pen something considerably

Jay Elec' told the flow mainly, is a poet mainly

The fatwah 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 W. to the desert on the Diavel like a recliner

Listening 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 living in, just like the scripture says

Earthquakes, fires and plagues, the resurrection of the dead

I'm a miracle

Born with imperial features

I'm a page turner

Sage burner, Santeria

Chango, December baby

Mauritius

Saint Hov

Story takes place in ancient Egypt

They'll cut off the nose, to spite their face

They'll steal your Jesus

I can't tell Hattie White that blue-eyed version

Is make believe stuff

She'll throw me out her 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 straightening combs

Little did they know

I hold the heat next

Neither tool 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 got to see us

Insha'Allah

I tried to turn that page

Over a zillion times