Father Author, Poor Pauper

[Intro:]

Yea, "Father Author, Poor Pauper", Yea

(More than a microphone monster)

[Canibus:]

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 a wealth

Who can I blame but myself? No one

I followed my azimuth then 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 is 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" use to be a war monger

I promised the Lord I will not tour any longer

Pardon the The Poor Pauper with nothin' to offer from his coffin

Caughin' 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're ready to move to the mouth it'll be too late too

That's why I pray for you

My words appear clear but true meanin' is lost

Why would an emcee like that even talk?

Clear your mind, clear your thoughts

Throw away everything you bought

And kneel before the Ark

YOU DON'T!, you knew 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 Manikin's are watchin'

Overspecialization doesn't require special explanation

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, than 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 of Langley Headquarters

My logo is in the floor etched in marble

Behind the rose line, morals and dogma of rhymes to climb

One of three peaks of Mount Hermon there in my lifetime

The rhymes is 3 point 1 4 5 9 2 6 5 3 5 8 9

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 passed, I'm in Walter Reed with a rare fungus rash

I told them "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 labtec took the blood that I spit up

She tried to screen it, than clean it

Hydroxide radicals I couldn't believe it

I was the Anemic Heathen that was saved by the blood of Jesus

My only grievance is I never be the same again

Never beat me with a rhyme again 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" last recording