Rise of our King

Halo crooked, still I wear it like a motherfuckin’ crown of thorns, Every sin a splinter in my side since the day I was born, Ink drippin’ like the oil from the prophets on my forehead, Whispers in my ear, Satan speakin’ with a low tread, Cross on my neck, but the chain feel rusted, Trust in the Lord, but my flesh can’t be trusted, Tongue like a blade and my thoughts get corrupted, Still I let the light cut through, shinin’ undisrupted, Turn my veins into rivers for the psalms that I’m bleedin’, Every line a little exorcism for the heathens, Devil on my shoulder tryna bargain for a weekend, But I serve a God that turn the reaper to the deacon, I been dancin’ on the edge of the abyss with a clinched fist, Temptation on my lips like a venomous French kiss, Tears hit the dirt, they grow swords from the drought, I water my faith with every doubt I spit out, Phantoms in my bloodstream, hissin’ through the capillaries, I see ‘em in the mirror, tryna twist my obituary, But the Author of my story hold the pen above the cemetery, Turn my darkest fuckin’ chapters to a holy commentary

Hands up to the sky while the serpent in my face, bitch, Bible in my left, in my right I got a blade, bitch, Demons in the shadows tryna drag me to the basement, God in my corner, every nightmare gettin’ facelift, Prayin’ in the blood rain, wadin’ through the carnage, Heaven in my heart, hell lurkin’ in the cartilage, Every time I stumble, hear that trumpet in the darkness, Holy in the rage, swingin’ Scripture like a cartridge

I’m that sinner in the chapel with the hoodie and the dark thoughts, Talkin’ to the ceiling ‘cause the floor made of hot coals, Angels in the rafters and they watchin’ with they eyes closed, They don’t wanna see me drag a demon by its jawbone, Rattlin’ my chains, I was married to the madness, Drinkin’ from the chalice of my trauma like a habit, Tryna smoke away the voices, drown ‘em in the static, But they resurrect at 3 a.m. like somethin’ tragic, Shadows in the corner of my room playin’ hopscotch, Mark another tally on the wall for my lost thoughts, But I heard a still voice cut through all the gunshots, “Child, you ain’t the smoke, you the flint in the rock.”, Now I’m breathin’ like a furnace, verses turn to incense, Every curse word laced with a holy inflection, I ain’t perfect, I’m just armed with confession, Turn my fuck-ups to weapons, swing redemption like a sentence, See the beast in my chest when the envy start to surface, But my God flip the script, make the serpent serve a purpose, If the devil want war, I’mma lace up in worship, Armor of the Most High under all of this dirt, bitch