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letra de saint gregory the great - greg enemy

[intro]
[…]

[verse 1]
woke up in a crowded room, walls painted powder blue
feels like heaven, but it’s a whole other alt-tude
candle in the cage, and i can see it through the cloudy view
we celebrating all the things that we’re about to do
near-sighted, but i’m working on my foresight
sorry i dozed, been up working for a fortnight
but clairvoyance my excuse to keep it so tight
both eyes closed, because the future looking so bright
i dropped jewelry, the contrast, the tomfoolery
still give them something they can groove[cruise?] down the avenues
this eulogy for the sh-t you hear usually
probably why a lot of lame dudes got[?] the att-tudes[?]
but i be coolin’ tho, feeling like a patron saint
sinnin’ like a gentleman, ladies sing amazing grace
every time he enters in, light up all they faces
think i made my case, you’re bearing witness to the greatest

[hook]
and my momma named me gregory, gregory i
tap dance on yo grave, like i’m gregory hines
if you don’t cool down the pace, like you gregory isaacs
pull back ya eyelids, peep the ultra-violets

[interlude]
now, what we gonna do
turn the music louder
make it real smooth
if you don’t know the when
you should fall through
extend the invitation
they can come too

yeah y’all can come too

not you
yeah, you
i’m just bullsh-ttin’

[verse 2]
depart from charles de gaulle, arrival time at heathrow
i’m trying to meet some people that will spend a pretty penny
or sell a kidney just to pay a leg and an arm
and all the bad b-tches visualize themselves on his arm
pardon love, i digress, but that’s the sh-t that i’m on
macarthur grant recipient anytime he perform
or buy some land in nairobi, for sustainable farm
sea[?] planet, so whatever happens next is organic[?whole line?]
young dmc[?] with three sixes, i’m raising h-ll
sippping the blood of christ from the holy grail
bad[?] vibe[?] pretty[?] with that mtv mic flag
live telecast from them same dream spike had
she gotta have it, i cast it like a liveraft
still a real n-gga though, you could say i’m typecast
it’s gotta be the shoes, cordoba[?] leather brogues[?]
in preparation for my forty acres and a mule
handle with care, all tales spectacular
peep the pale elegance, mic air vernicular[?]
far to the jit[?], i think i’m calling it quits[?whole line, again?]
not ’til i buy my little brothers all ferraris[?] and sh-t

[hook]
and my daddy named me gregory, gregory i
tapdance across the stage, like i’m gregory hines
the whole crowd looks amazed, and h-ll even i
be surprised what that n-gga do, every time

- greg enemy

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