Exorcist

[Killah Priest]

Each flavor jolly ranchers

Eight astronauts in space

Analysts suffer from brain cancer

Now they speak backwards

The Earth awaits the center of mass as they arrive

Only to thrive off a human flesh

Santa clause wife breaks her neck

And beaten to death, the Jesus theory was just a hoax

The devil catches The Holy Ghost

From a psalm that the Archangel had wrote

Hitler jerks off on the top of Jezebel's head

Give the children stone instead of bread

Chop off his head, split his body down the middle

I'm like a three year old and your bones are skittles

Riddle, diddle, little, sickle, pistol

Piddle, paddle, rattle, tattle, taboo

The bottle of Vicodin or Oxycodone

Now I see Martians, wavin' "Hello"

Their arms are long, their teeth are yellow

Pop another gram so I can see the Son of Man

I look up, oh yeah, the Son of Man

Now you see, now you don't

The trick is makin' them believe but they won't

Who killed 2Pac and ODB? Somebody's watchin' me

Paranoid drinkin' Coca-cola

The coffee cup spills over, I grab soda-after-soda

A drive-by shootin' at a weddin', so upsettin'

White gown, rice rose petals, blood spreadin'

f*ckin' then killin', killin' then f*ckin'

My brain's empty, my heart feels nothin'

My left side is numbin'

I ask myself, lemme ask you somethin'

Tryna catch my breath while I'm tryna write somethin' so fresh

[Killah Priest]

80 grams of Dilaudid, dopa- troponin

Hydromorphone, my eye's low, I morph into a King

Holdin' idols of the mammoth, gaff mist of stream

A psychedelic, angelic, relic

Used to bind Leviathan's wings

A night perish, his wife's precious

Holdin' his head, slide off his helmet

Lizard face, she drops 'em

Looks around the reptilian race wit long part tongue

My pupils dilate, my brain goes cuckoo

I must annihilate, I leap yoo-hoo

I feel great, a basket full of snakes

Upon the tablets, a long beard, a stone I still scrape

A poem of madness, I shot the devil on Easter eve

Behind hell's walls, you can still hear his wife grieve

She wore white on his funeral

All dead animals came back to life, it was beautiful

Lookin' unusual, a long trench-coat, lookin' grim

Ground hems spend smoke, slightly build posture

It's Priest the Mobster

A sick smile, holdin' his next vic', a small child

Could it be the next Savior?

Look for more millennium flows

Futuristic poems in my comic book of reality

Called the stargazer papers