Father Author, Poor Pauper

Lyrics

[Intro] Yeah, Father Author, Poor Pauper, yeah (More than a microphone monster) [Verse] Once a upon a midnight dreary Being blackballed by the music industry prepared me In the past albums were made, put on the shelf I was never paid or given the wealth, who can I blame but myself? No one! I followed my azimuth In transit on a path from apprentice to master My testimony – any place at the top is lonely Ask me what I cherish mostly, no matter what I say, it's poetry! The way I walk, the way I talk, the way I fought The way I won, the way I lost, the way I thought When they tried to play me out as a man The way it felt takin' showers in the sand with a fuel can Wakin' up in the middle of the night I can't breathe right, I can feel my heart beat spike Father Author, Poor Pauper used to be a war monger I promised the Lord I would not tour any longer Pardon the the Poor Pauper with nothin' to offer from his coffer Coughin' up a mouthful of a volcanic sulfur Feast your eyes on the awesome mechanics of the metallic saucers Flown by man, I bet you thought it was the Martians Since Channel Zero I tried to do somethin' to save you But you threw away the jewels I gave you When you ready to move to the mountains, it'll be too late too That's why I pray for you My words appear clear but true meaning is lost Why would an MC like that even talk? Clear your mind, clear your thoughts Throw away everything you bought and kneel before the Ark You don't! You know that you should but you won't Any artist will become lethargic from weed smoke I don't go to malls 'cause I don't like shoppin' I can't buy clothes when the mannequins are watchin' Overspecialization doesn't require special explanations The information is my interpretation I sit down at the table and make it Through a series of musical, lyrical and compositional arrangements I'm disinfatuated, you rappers are overrated For the music you're makin', it sounds foolish and basic Thread by thread the poem is woven, the book is open You were ordered to show Him, then the words are spoken Civilization is fragile, so is life there in battle So is nature when surrounded by the unnatural Walk through the doors at Langley Headquarters My logo is in the floor etched in marble Behind the rose line murals and dogma, the rhymes that climb One of three peaks of Mount Hermon there in my lifetime The rhymes is 3.145 92653589 The same morning that the Can-I-Bus album came out I got a text from the NSA that said they'd "take me out!" Kabbalah Math was all I had My wife and child were both killed in a helicopter crash Eight months pass, I met Walter Reed with a rare fungus rash I told him, "Fuck the cash!" Just give me somethin' for the pain, my brain 'bout to bust vein They said, "You've been through enough Germaine" I tried to sit up but can't get up This sucks, Father Author, Poor Pauper can't give up The biomarker lit up, the lab tech took the blood that I spit up She tried to screen it, then clean it Hydroxide radicals, I couldn't believe it I was the anaemic heathen that was saved by the blood of Jesus My only grievance is I'll never be the same again Never be able to rhyme like it was '98 again I'm so ashamed I'm depressed; I don't know what I could say to them So I made this mixtape for them I hope you enjoy it even if you never bought it This is Father Author, Poor Pauper's last recording