I bring blessings your way but
"that's impossible" they say,
well, yesterday this was the gospel
and it still is today, more so even
cause you're bleeding out like a geyser spout
but I'm Old Faithful and I have a wraithful of raps
that smother the ones that hate you for
I've been sent out by none other than
Mother Nature and my rate is still cheap,
I always work for free
for I am already the King of Existence
so serious I will not be because
Sirius I am, if you're curious,
then stare into my eyes
but beware for you're
peering into the mind of Pan
but I won't damn you,
so I promise you won't go mad,
I'll just help you flow like the Danube
and give your horned halo a dab of God polish,
I demolish their plans for you're witnessing
the Son of the Sun and the Moon and soon you will know
that I'm from under the Tomb,
Honeycomb Wonderland is my home,
The Cottonmouth of Heaven opens wide
and inside is a horn,
a trumpet to be specific,
She came forth after the very first lick,
They don't know,
They don't care,
They don't know what they're looking for
when they're going down the stairs
leading from the cellar door,
"hey, why'd you tell us for?",
is what you said but then my friends, you would've never known,
it's all or nothing so go all the way and when you reach it,
Set'll eat shit at the end of days,
Here we go,
on a snowy day some past Christmas eve in Hollis Queens,
I visited RUN DMC and now
Jam Master scratches the Saturn turntables
while Jimi Hendrix says "hey Jay, hand me that cable
so I can plug in my git,
now let's get this place fuckin' lit",
Hey humans,
Bob wants you to lively up yourself,
so just to spite them,
the Nevidi sent me,
the unsmitable Sprite in,
for I am the fresh to death Dionysus ivy Elf
and I've come alive again so
I can help, now let me lend
the legendary edge of my hand so
you can chop down their dubious castle back into the fuckin' sand,
look up and see them landing,
what kind of magic is this?
Spectacular silver disk,
I made them all from a beaming ball of Prima Materia,
I've been gearing up for this for
more than forever and a day,
now with crowned head I make my way
down the Redrum River Red in the merry month of May,
The Cottonmouth of Heaven opens wide
and inside is a horn,
a trumpet to be specific,
She came forth after the very first lick
*
