Got niggaz that'll ride with me, die with me, thug with me Bust off they hammers, still sell they drugs with me My niggaz is real they all'll see the judge
Take away my inhibitions Take away my solitude Fire me up with your resistance Put me in the mood Storm the walls around this prison Leave the inmates
for a moment, lads And hear me tell my tale How across the sea from England I was condemned to sail Now the jury found me guilty Then says the judge,
the storm Always, above the norm Just listen to them Saying You've got a bad reputation Bad reputation You've got a bad reputation They're quick to judge
Slam, can?t touch this, we rule it with a clenched fist On top fuel with a death grip Judged by a weak little man with a pen in his hand And just doesn
We come in all that glory now No prayers suffice such evil foe Black wings, the storm is gathering and time will say We know the power of heresy is on
out a hole Asks the man about to become Immortal [Lead Jam: Peterson, Smyth] Judging me, judging God, judging you Judging me, judging you, judgmental Judgement
Yeah, yeah, what the fuck I gotta worry about now? Nigga you think after weatherin' the storm And comin' from the extremes I came from You think I'ma
the best Get off the D, get off the I and let your keyboard figure the rest Cause I impress my own self, and only the man upstairs can judge me Re-tellers
You are the center of your own private little constellation And you are the jury and judge of every little deconstructed fable And you like the way it
He rode into town one dust storm Sheepskin cloak across his back A preacher man with kind old eyes And a mystery for a past He said he'd come to teach
numbs himself with weed He's from the coldest breed Who judge by what they see And I thought he was smart enough To know that the girl on his arm Will never calm his storms
the pain will be worthwhile (From storm clouds, Come angels, Let pain give you pleasure From dirt roads, to flowers, when faith can be measured From storm
the sky It's more than a dream escape The ground's burning high Will I see the wizard As he rumbles in the air? Can I feel his heartbeat As the storm
the gifted? God is our judge and jury my friend It is his choice who makes it in Saints and sinners who is different? God is our judge and jury to all
when heaven is silent there is a calm before the storm when every man will call on the name of God and he will judge this wicked world i am not your
sheltered from the storm No matter where it's barren A dream is being born No matter who they follow No matter where they lead No matter how they judge
packed with blood, the staged kisses trembling under the placid stars, the coffee taken with cream and scones under the Viennese Moon; whilst we are weighed, we are judged, and twist in this storm