nat turner [is john the baptist, not manson]
...now I see better, john the baptist is the
position reserved for my brother from the trenches
u.s. is more defenseless, the god samir has the lane
manson isn't johnathan, good, severe cast for rain
my house of corrections I will construct to correct my
investigative efforts and clear up any errors
I ain't have any chance against the breach, had to set it
but if you examine it, the system's convoluted measures
put these errors in place, so these weren't my fuck-ups
I just used you to help me without your knowledge of what
the-fuck's been going on, yeah, they confused this for that,
him for him, me for nimrod, had imprints for that
sewn in the template we physically exist in, pre-conditioned
I could explain it in-depth, but who for-real pays attention
until pressed inbetween noon and hour eleven
even then, it has to be catastrophic, beyond mention
I was born then, so I cornered that, church street
veci is my twin jacob, israel, that's vesey street
he's the one who came up with veci/christ as the duo
I was slow but managed to accumilate what I do know
so what you think you want me to do now
about all this, before this, what you thought was important?
is your life worth being in my business and on my premises
if you are not meant for this? you never had priviledge to this
I'm posting shit, when I clean it up, noone's noticing
the implosion got them peek-a-boos back to not knowing shit
those who are supposed to know this truth, they kept note
and with a dog whistle they fetched growth with like-minded souls
the white-minded trolls done came across the unbinded ghouls
of africans domesticated via unbridled force
of crackers laying down they law, who now say they found the lord
when their manson exists no more, they exist no more
wanna' mix with melanated skin now as if I won't
kill every nigga who went that route too, and their offwhite spoils
and this ain't me having hate, this about hidden hate
and the hidden agenda taking place, carried out in my face
well naw, in front of my face, like what am I gon' say
or do about it, how the black man's being immasculated
and I gots nothing but words of english to purge the grafted with
it takes some thinking to fathom how I mastered this
up against warlocks and witches using sex-magic tricks
to glide thru sliding doors of the soul that the mental reps
the soul which is the mind, come to find in our given lexicon
might as well believe in pots of gold and magic leprachauns
niggas who keep taking shit for face value, I told you
so I'm lincoln only with soldiers, since them big faces still own you
the herds of black sheep, I own them, they go where I say to go then
and nat turner in the woods, done survived past the trojans
whiteye gon' beg of me to do him in, but I'm glad I know him
did two collabs with him two thousand a.d. back on o-zone
where the sailors used to pass thru on the seven from the shipyard
o-zone to the ooh-mob who introduced black mob to the bike-by's
at war since the sixties, home to jfk adapted by a black mom
him and his brother, for the rest of you bloodsuckers it's dirtnap time...