(Verse 1)
Priestly Emcee, I started as a Saint/
Then became a pouty boy cause I didn’t get my way/
Then I was looking for freedom from my constraints/
So I gave myself to God and he gave me back to Me/
But with a little touch of him, consecrated/
Tell my inner demons, to Heaven I made it/
But they like, “You ain’t dead!/ You ain’t made amends!/
You still afraid of sin/ you still crave the bread/
You still put stumbling blocks in the way of men!/
You still cuss, say some fibs/ You can’t be a priest till there’s no trace of them!”/
Well
They got a point/ but You can’t put down what God anoints/
May the Devil be the only one I disappoint/
I don’t serve the poor, cause I see myself as one them/
By giving bread, I’m just serving God’s Son again/
After three degrees, I give a lot of counsel/
But if it ain’t God in me, then a load of shit it amounts to/

(Hook)
Priestly emcee, and I’m popping my collar/
What’cha going to do when I’m dropping that knowledge/
Sacrifice the beat, when its looking so polished/
God’s coming down, so stop with that non-sense/
Priestly emcee, chest of jewels for the convicts/
Best believe He came to conqueror your coffin/
Praise the God of my joy and my solace/
God’s came down, so bless all the prophets/

(Verse 2)
I’m the syrophoenician woman, you can call me a bitch
But I’m still getting my dough/ I know/ that went over your heads/
I’m show you the Gospel, Mark chapter 7/
It’s the language of Jesus, but may be not of a reverend/
May be its irreverent/ my brethren/ I get it/
Only White boy on his RNS/ all I’m saying is
‘We Are Blessed’/ I’m gon’ put my fingers in your ears and spit at you/
Ephphatha, Ephphatha, in this ritual/
Cause even the deaf and stuttering/ without breath, they mumbling/
The Kingdom of God accepts the suffering/
The Kingdom of God its breadth is coming in/
To those that are with it/ but those who left and stumbling/
Can get the dust/and you know what/
So I’ma raise the roof like the paralytic’s friends/
Say your sins are forgiven, for wearing my patience thin/
Wait! Its Eucharist/ tell me where all the incense is again/

(Hook)

(Verse 3)
Tired of politicians with working class taste/
But no working class heart/ cause they/ don’t suffer the way/
The working class are/ and a church that forgot to pray/
Should bathe in a river of tears for its shame/
What you offering, God go rub in your face/
You offer him shit, be prepared to take a taste/
Give him, thanksgiving and Praise/
You’ll be so Fresh and so Clean Clean like Outkast in the Day/
Blessed, so soaring like Seraphims in the highest/
Youthful cherubims, full of love showing kindness/
Christ said you are gods, so shall we be in his likeness/
To be whole, with God’s glory gleaming in brightness/
Ethiopians raising hands/ with Anglo-Saxons doing chant/
Singing Syriac hymns with Mexican sermons/
With Japanese priests giving offerings/
Invitation to all this, God is calling thee/

(Hook)