[Intro]
Dear Lord. I hope you're listening. Please forgive these wack ass niggas
For they know not what they do. Amen

[X3]
Yeah, yeah
Uh huh

[Verse 1: Bishop Lamont]
I sniff Ajax
Drink Clorox
Spit fresh through every breath till a lung pop
Chiggy check tiggy tec till your neck, POP
My style the hardest shit since the black box
You hearin' a smidgen, a glimpse of my vision
A tiny description of words to them scribbles
So dope I ain't writtin' rhymes I'm writin' prescriptions
A dose of some written
Vacodin, Prozac
Throw in some codeine for sippin'
I'm causin' a vision like modern religion
See, I hold the key, I'm the major revision
Makin' it hard for wack rappers to make a livin'
Y'all better learn how to spit
Your own style you got to get
Leave some for the groupie bitches
Stop ridin' all the dick
The only thing I ever bit nigga was my bottom lip
Read between my lines I got a Code like DaVinci
But oh yeah, you can't read, here it says, "Fuck you bitches"

[Hook]
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
It's the devil got you sayin' all this wack shit they playin'
Y'all niggas better get down on your knees
And start sayin', "Jesus, God, oh please
Don't let Bishop kill me."
I'm not gonna kill you I'm gonna heal you
Till I'm leavin', not breathin', I'll destroy these demons

[Verse 2: Bishop Lamont]
The flow like slit wrists
The Cardinal don't spit like this
I call it suicide cause that's what you'll commit
Tryin' to spit slick wit but that wit can not be matched with
Can never ever be hot
You're a wet matchstick
E'ry day I get green like it's always St. Patricks
Immaculate Conception, my style is a bastard
Confess the truth in the booth so much I should have been Catholic
I was born to be fly, nigga my nickname is Maggot
Annihilate 'em, fatal, send 'em back to who create 'em
Godness in your face, nigga don't keep Him waitin'
There's a star in your circle when I cipher, call me Pagan
When my pen leaks ink, leaves the Mark of the Beast like Ronald Wilson Regan
When I'm speakin', I'm preachin' that's why they call me Bishop
Like it's motherfuckin' Juice, walk around with a pimp cup
Y'all already bust one, then I'm the second coming/cumming waitin'
Oops, I'm on my own dick again, let me quit masturbatin'

[Hook]

[Verse 3: Bishop Lamont]
You ignoramuses cease all your fussin'
Yappin' 'bout who's the hottest, that's a monotonous discussion
If you don't say me
Bitch, you on somethin'
If I get any hotter I'll die from spontaneous human combustion
So I got a fire extinguisher in the booth when I'm bustin'
The shit that I'm reciting is like grease is lighting
A 747 to mistletoe
Still don't get what I said?
In Lamen's terms, bitch it's over your head
I can do anythang, I'mma go out with a bang
I got one shot so put my mind to it like Kurt Cobain *gun shot*
I don't beat box
Nigga, I kickbox
My punchlines are fly, I'm practicin' Muay Tai
I'm Ong-Bak
Kick you through your window of your Maybachs
Ugly ass Cross Colors, I was rappin' way back
I'm gonna leave you with a jewel about true as the scripture
Like the Last Supper there's always two or three pussies in the picture

[Hook]

[Outro: From the movie Saw]
Actually, technically speaking, he's not really a murderer. He never killed anyone
He finds ways for his victims to kill themselves