The Neverending Story

[Verse 1: Jay Electronica] Have you ever heard the tale of The noblest of gentlemen who rose up from squalor? Tall, dark, and decked out in customary regalia Smellin' like paraphernalia Hailin' from the home of Mahalia His uptown smile was gold like a Frankie Beverly day His favorite song from Prince was not "Raspberry Beret" It was "Sometimes It Snows In April" He was brought up by the faithful In the cage of every unclean bird, ungrateful and hateful The legend of the clandestine reverend from the Bricks With the master's grip to pull the sleeping giant out the ditch And I ain't even have to wiggle my nose like Bewitched I just up-shift to six, convert the V4 to a broomstick Though I tarry through the valley of death, my Lord give me pasture If you want to be a master in life, you must submit to a master I was born to lock horns with the Devil at the brink of the hereafter Me, the socket, the plug, and universal adapter The prodigal son who went from his own vomit To the top of the mountain with five pillars and a sonnet The autobiography read Quranic Spread love like Kermit the Frog, that permeate the fog I'm at war like the Dukes of Hazard against the Bosses of the Hogs Gip-Gip-Giggity, Alchemist put the icing on the soliloquy Let it be forever known that I niced up to pen something considerably Jay Electollah Flomeini mainly is support mainly The fatwa he issued on al-Shayṭān was delivered plainly It's the day of Qiyāmah To the believers, I bring you tidings of joy But if you want beef, I'll filet mignon ya You could catch me bummy as fuck or decked out in designer On I-10 West to the desert, on a Diavel like a recliner Listen to everything from a lecture From the honorable minister Louis Farrakhan To Serge Gainsbourg or Madonna or a podcast on piranhas What a time we livin' in, just like the scripture says Earthquakes, fires, and plagues, the resurrection of the dead [Verse 2: Jay-Z] I'm a miracle born with imperial features I'm a page turner, sage burner, Santeria Chongón, December baby, my Orishas Saint Hov, story takes place in ancient Egypt They'll cut off the nose to spite their face, they'll steal ya Jesus I can't tell Hattie White that blue-eyed version is make believe stuff She throw me out the house, say, "Ye deliver us from this heathen" I say that to Ms. Tina, she'll sneeze at sun, her photic reflex They both had straighten combs, little did they know I hold the heat next Neither two, can be used to fix our defects P.S. we born perfect, fuck all the B.S Everybody wanna be us for real, we just gotta see us Insha'Allah [Outro: The-Dream] I tried to turn a page, over a zillion times