[Quelle Chris] Listen up, I got a story to tell

[Verse 1: Quelle Chris] John the Baptist wore wild minks
Strewn 'bout the room with a swoon and a wink
Big body Bethlehem links
Talk 'bout 'em, playing piano while he thinks
What's perfection when life's interesting on the brink?
Gregorian chants up the drinks
In reference from legends of story and sea
Tone, Charlie's good grief
The sole of Jane's good feet
Those who never hear the strange fruits
Think his tooth isn't neat?
Yet within his group it's very couth at the least
Swell in tune with the movements of beasts
In the dark age he was unfazed by the new waves
And stayed true to his old ways
Word on the streets, was that he parted seas with ease
And broke breads with saints and thieves
Shade on the sleeves was the same as the slaves to Kings
The raven's wit and the mood that brings
The understanding of the enemy
The power in the song one sings
Of boasts that Joseph's coat with beds with moat
Feasting on meast that was bled from the borough
Lambs of goats
Wiping the grease from said treats on the sleeves of his coats
Messages received from burnin' trees was translated to tablets so the herd could read, indeed
He ghost wrote songs, but few saw him on the scene
Masterpieces for the paychecks
Said he wanted the same they cut Mike for the Sistine
Been an umpteen since he pissed clean
Stop at tender lessons, couple blocks from the bean
They'll try to rewrite your story when you die
Johnny boy wore wild minks, so will I
Why not?

[Verse 2: Mach Hommy] Little Johnny at the County Fair man, it's a dunk tank
[?] was twerking on Hera, her horse carriage was hunchback
The North Star challenge was dumb packed
At the starting line, a hundred wise men, three made the finish
What made you talk about him?
He say forgiveness, love, instrument is just don't fall in love with the image
As below, so above, no pretendin'
Left a stain in the shape of his mug on the linen
[?] sold drugs on the fences
For sustenance
He gotta mean C-walk like WC
Fuck a plea
He stepped into the court and gave them suckas grief
Cup o' tea, see
A thousand pigs drowned in a lake
Piece of cake
He in the state of G rates
He ain't a Wraith
He awake
He can evade Jakes
And beat the case, either way
Frequency, may day
Fuckin with legal aide, need a break

[Outro] Hey, hey sweetheart, bring me a glass, will ya?
Not a cup, a glass, rhymes with class, ya understand?
Come on, smarten up. It's alright, it's alright. Bobby Sherman, Christmas album, that's where I got my style from, quite frankly. And I had this Panamanian tailor, this guy name Mr. Holt, I mean this guy, I'm talkin' about a marvel with needle and thread, you know what I mean? You don't find guys that make clothes like this anymore, you know? The linings he would come up with, you understand?
His business card, it didn't say fuckin' tailor, it said fuckin' interior decorator. And he comes up with these own patterns, you understand what I'm saying? To the point where, you wanted to take the fuckin blazer off and turn it inside out and wear it inside out, you know, you understand what I'm saying? Because that's how fuckin' marvelous you'd look here. You know, we're talking, it's the 60s, it's free love, and everybody's got the fuckin', you know, the dashikis and the tie-dye on. And you want to fit in, you know, you don't wanna be the odd man out. They got hot girls that look, you know, they got hot girls, you know, hot hippie girls. You've seen a couple of them, yeah you know? The other broads, you don't…Hey sweetheart? Do me a favor? Hey sweetheart, you up there? Can, can you bring me a glass? I'm thirsty here