Lyrics:
Your father and my father “they” are bound by tradition...we are not bound by those traditions...
Hymn Naswaáree: What does that mean? Logically
Elaine Paige
But without the fuckin' tunes an' Joe Cocker bollocks
East miserable Mainline
Where the air con won't be saved by Nicolas Cage
Put some
spiritually subscribed
I was just a jiveturkey
Now I'm healed by his stripes
Blessed and made in His image
And this grace is a privilege
Yeah my soul roll long
tucked
My focus on Self Destruct
PSPB, DORS
The coldest bar Smith
So the legend goes
FOCUSed through a plethora of foes
Shit show
Twenty four hour long
a talker
And I do not have any wheels
But I am a walker
You did it first
But I put the soul in the bitch
Like Joe Cocker
She gone get by
With some help from
inside of Sam's club
I done did dirt and went to church to get my hands scrubbed
Swear I've been baptized each three or four times
But in the land where
Sleep with my eyes at post
So diablo won't be hostin the game of life
The knife sits by throats of the young
And blows death straight through the lungs
under a spacebeam spasm like Joe Cocker
The feeble-mind shocker
In ultraviolet hours, searching for blue flowerspsychedelic relics my power
Aesthetic
eclectic
Mercenary of Astral Clocktowers, I’m watching
Those who watch the watchmen, bury guards in vinyl
Press my ashes in hymns, from now till infinity,
B
Joe been crack way before my philosophy
Banned from TV, BET won't play me
Still we do it B.I.G. it's all gravy
It's our reality, you call it
in my hands
Mouth on that drill ish
I be on that wired insane
Ultimate trill shit
And there is not a soul that can see me
Like I'm not real trick
There's a hymn that we sing at times in church
That is called "It Is Well With My Soul"
It was written by a man named Horatio Spafford
A man who knew
Cross my fingers for heaven and a
Burn a chalice with brethren
Three-six-five, twenty-four-seven
Hold cigars like 7-11
Jars of that seven-four
number four
Somewhere out west
I still live in this old house
Where we were raised
On this red dirt road
The county never paved
Now I watch my
After filling my reputation of whore beaters
Soared to Taco Bell and I ordered some gorditas (Mmm, that's good!)
Wanted four more, ordered 'em,
homeplace where I grew up of the days both good and bad
My overalls were hand-me-downs my shoes they were full of holes
I used to walk four miles to school
You can call this one my Hurrian Hymn
Im one of the first of them to sounddifferent
Why they worried about drip and they aint got closets let alone
the way that I touched her soul
And its evident, that I'm far from the best and shit
But i know that I'm killing it
And I'm up in my element, feeling like
today, he'll beat it, Joe Frazier
My Guccis, I went all-blue, Nipsey feet (feet)
You see diamonds on my neck, that's Water by G (G)
She went brazy
homeplace where I grew up and of the days both good and bad
My overalls were hand-me-downs, my shoes were full of holes
I used to walk four miles
homeplace where I grew up and of the days both good and bad
My overalls were hand-me-downs, my shoes were full of holes
I used to walk four miles
where I grew up of the days both good and bad
My overalls were hand-me-downs shoes full of holes
I used to walk four miles to school every day through
Stars aligning, think my chakras in Zion
4th dimension matrix, mixing poetry in space and time
Continuum, shifting Buddha in spatial knowledge
store
Sold my soul, achieved all my goals
And I'm surrounded by propofol
Sycophants, security, my agent and rat hoes
Telling me my shits lit when my
.jpg/300px-Jarvis_Cocker_(2012).jpg "Jarvis Cocker")
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