[Verse 1 – Sermon Pulse / Machine-Gun Cadence] I don’t wear no collar—I wear conviction, Took the sermon from scars, made pain religion. I was sanctified wrong, in a basement’s chill, Where the gospel got muffled, but the blade was still. I ain’t holy—I’m haunted. I ain’t safe—I’m sworn. Where the choir should be, there’s the sound of war horns. They made me priest through attrition and fire, When the devil wore skin and sat quiet in choir. They said “Forgive,” but I gripped that steel, 'Cause prayer don’t stop when the threat ain’t real. I blessed my Glock with a sigh and a scope, Whispered psalms to the slide, then I let that hope go. I ain’t preachin’ for mercy—I’m teachin’ return, Every opp got a verse, every scar gotta burn. The temple was broken, the pews flipped fast— Now I preach from the alley with a clip that’ll last. [Hook – Liturgical Flow] I’m the Priest of Peril—hallowed by heat, Where the sermon is pressure and the truth don’t retreat. I baptize grief in a militant flame, Sanctify loss, and I preach in your name. I’m the Priest of Peril—no grace, no hymn, Just a rosary of trauma and a choir gone dim. I ain’t preachin’ for peace—I’m recitin’ the war, In a temple of shadows with a blood-stained floor. [Verse 2 – Machine-Gun Cadence] Confession booth empty, so I spit in files, Liturgical bars, full metal in style. Blessed be the hand that refused to fold, And cursed be the oath that left kids in the cold. This ain’t martyr rap—this is tribunal praise, Where the steeple’s a sniper post raised in a blaze. Every hymn I forgot got replaced with rounds, Every prayer unanswered now echoes in sounds. They turned me into clergy of the cut and run, Where the sermon was trauma and the pew held a gun. Now I walk with a limp but my scripture intact, It's a scroll made of war and a verse for the pact. I don't bless no flag, I don’t pledge no king, I just name what broke, and the pain I bring. This is NDA, not for fame or pearls— I’m the one who survived, then baptized the world. [Hook – Liturgical Flow] I’m the Priest of Peril—hallowed by heat, Where the sermon is pressure and the truth don’t retreat. I baptize grief in a militant flame, Sanctify loss, and I preach in your name. I’m the Priest of Peril—no grace, no hymn, Just a rosary of trauma and a choir gone dim. I ain’t preachin’ for peace—I’m recitin’ the war, In a temple of shadows with a blood-stained floor. [Verse 3 – Reflective Drift] You ever try to pray with your back to a door? Where the only thing holy is the silence before? Where the candle you lit got snuffed in a scream, And the psalm in your throat was a bullet in dream? I did. And I ain’t ask for no robe, Just a name to be heard and a safe escape code. But the gods ain’t come—just sirens and dust, So I made my own rite, outta fury and rust. Now I bless these bars like communion flame, Each verse a relic, each rhyme a name. I ain’t saved—but I ain’t still broke. I'm just preachin’ from fire, in a trench full of smoke. [Final Hook – Echoed in Ash] I’m the Priest of Peril—scripture in shell, With a sermon that scorches and a gospel from hell. I baptize grief in a militant flame, Sanctify loss, and I preach in your name. I’m the Priest of Peril—ain’t no altar but pain, No stained glass, just flashbacks and God in the rain. I don’t kneel, I stand—don’t plea, I roar— In a church made of echoes where the blood hits floor.
