...eleven inches to their every entrance, what a miss thinketh
I reserect with, without words of wisdoms, what a bitch wishes
stinks up the contours, what you got eyes for, I got nothing to prove
I'm not from a soft delicate place, fillies not something to use
I reach to the six triple-eight postal battalion for recruits
three and a half years is november '21, there's no excuse
for not paying full reparations to vs, your way was though vs
but the cov'i.d. wanted full ownership, that's been jakub's ruin
corrupting every sacred text there was, thinking to outsmart me
the living word incarnate, your skin tarnished, sign of the marked beast
and every nigga busy wondering why God damns his offspring
the womb being hip-hop is of lucyfer's loins I got off in
the-skin-I'm-in been his life ever since, I'm antonio ban-
dera, I stand in her stiff 'til I'm a stiff, this rodeo banned
from listeners, until I was pissed off enough to show his guts
for thinking to say keep this secret while secretions pour his shucks
keeping blasphemy alive with gay pride month, none will survive such
mockery scoffing what I've done to lucy's skyline of diamonds...