Текст песни Stigmata, Action Bronson, Ab-Soul, Asaad

[Intro: Ab-Soul]
Righteous man,
Walk with me,
Bear the burden, yo!

[Verse 1: Ab-Soul]
No, no, don't do you dare cast one stone in air,
I'm crackin' stone with bare hands, you're a mere man,
I know my stoners here, all my visionaries,
Shades in the night, that's a scary sight.
I'm never in the dark, though, my squad the brightest circle,
Watch with the internet alone I enlighten the whole globe,
That's iTunes from a nigga with astigmatism,
I got it from my moms. Thank you, Steve Jobs.
You took my grandpa job and you gave me a job,
Not just a physical but digital way of displayin' my rhymes,
And makin' these kind people pay a fine,
I've been through a lot, I deserve a lot, this work's fine.

[Chorus: Ab-Soul]
I carry the cross, if Virgin Mary had an abortion,
I'd still be carried in the chariot by stampedin' horses,
I'm more than a man, I've been died and rose again,
Left these holes in my hands, so you know who I am.
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata,
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata, yawk-yawk! Yawk-yawk!
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata,
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata.

[Verse 2: Action Bronson]
From the fiery pits, on some Dead Poets Society shit,
Here to bring you a variety mix,
Grab my dick, violently spit, ‘cause I don't give a fuck
About the type of shit batty boys are on; get your vaginas wet,
And you shakin' in your ballet shoes;
At the restaurant we valet twos, bad news,
Half moons on ten goons, uh!
On the four wheeler shreddin' up the sand dunes,
There's something wrong, and that's quite clear,
I smell deception in the night's air,
That shit is sweeter than a ripe pear,
For your love I cut my right ear.

[Chorus: Ab-Soul]
I carry the cross, if Virgin Mary had an abortion,
I'd still be carried in the chariot by stampedin' horses,
I'm more than a man, I've been died and rose again,
Left these holes in my hands, so you know who I am.
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata,
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata, yawk-yawk! Yawk-yawk!
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata,
Stigmata, stigmata, stigmata.

[Verse 3: Asaad]
Oh no, no, no, they didn't, ‘cause these ain't bars, these prisons,
Walk with me, every step I take in these Visvims,
Real rare breed, cut from the cloth like,
A phoenix feather when I write Molotov, yikes!
You seen them flowers bloom, know that they grew in despair,
A blessing in disguise, nobody knew it was there,
My crown had been made, I just had to put it on,
Now I spread my wings and let the bird of dawning sing its song,
And when my grandpa died I broke down and cried,
But still I am more than a man, I am a God,
Sweetest is pain amongst all of the thriller things,
I been through enough and so I need all of the iller things.

[Outro:]
One of these days some simple soul will pick up the Book of God, read it, and will believe it. Then the rest of us will be embarrassed.