Greg Enemy - Saint Gregory the Great lyrics

[Intro] [...] [Verse 1] Woke up in a crowded room, walls painted powder blue Feels like heaven, but it's a whole other altitude 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 j**elry, the contrast, the tomfoolery Still give them something they can groove[cruise?] down the avenues This eulogy for the sh** you hear usually Probably why a lot of lame dudes got[?] the attitudes[?] 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**tin' [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**hes visualize themselves on his arm Pardon love, I digress, but that's the sh** 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 hell 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***a 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** [Hook] And my daddy named me Gregory, Gregory I Tapdance across the stage, like I'm Gregory Hines The whole crowd looks amazed, and hell even I Be surprised what that n***a do, every time