...I identified them folks...
...they necklines ‘bout to identify with rope
my identity christis not an identity crisis
the devil best stop fuckin’ with my disciple
look close how jacub wrestling ‘gainst archangel gabriel
knife to the hollow of his [luci to lucy] thigh, I ain’t playing fair
the blood game? look, blood, I want The Game
and infidelphia in philadelphia get set aflame
I’m a’ call out names any day, look anyways
all of ‘em tradors/traitor bloodclot pussies, grave mistakes
know The Father thru The Sun now, I’m man’s sun
closing on the throat of manson
I told that nigga this is my shit, crippled-ass simple-ass
in ’97, I was mental and schizzin’ bad
still kept me a gig, strayed from the head shrinks
popped perphenazine once or twice, had me dead sleep...
...ay look, this month to the first month of the next year
I, man’s sun [isa], shaking manson [esau] down, this is MY shit...
...my rules...first-off, the black man being the establishment?
means he’s the plantation...charlie m., I’ll waste you’z
my money best be on my books by the day’s end...