Some for the content, all for delivery
Pick apart a rapper Vic'll heart attack'em visibly
Serious as serious does, collect the wisdom
Rushed over to Premier for the Exorcism
Speak your mind, if it gets too scientific
I'm a flying discus over ya hat, an' iron fist to colab'
The kind of fix only to keep 'em coming back
slammin the MP will have 'em comin at, yeah
They wanna know whatchya name, where ya come from
What's the game plan, same path for the lump sum
drink ya Long Island, gunnin' for the mass appeal
big sword, only half a shield catch ya
Vic arise wit'out breakin stride
without miss or taken lies
see I did it for years & years, keep a place inside
To the game that ya'll patronize
Who ya facin? I, V-I-C, mindstate blown apart
My pen hits the canvas to brandish you open hearts
Still we building, keep the streets lateral
Prem' brought it outta me, now I'll bring it outta you
the exorcist...

scratches: "It's the real ill microphone inventor!"
"Pass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it."

Uh, I pay the charge like I'm Tony Ducks, it's only us
The power, the dollar, what holds me up
Like a coward's revolver you fold under pressure
Marciano punch-lines I throw in ta test ya chin
Waiting ta be blessed again
The exorcist melt tracks down & necks'll spin, uh
why you flow so fly, show both sides
disrespectin' the game and I don't - know - why
Somethin' you don't wanna battle with
niggaz on the hackler shit, changin the rules
I'm the catalyst whose embarassment
kick a rhyme for us
I do it for gun, hooptys '89 Taurus
There you go, here I come, feared by some
Spittin fire, sear my tongue, hit by drunk
Like I haven't hit puberty, how clear I come
the Radicals, Little Vic, Primo, draw it outta you
The Exorcist

scratches: "It's the real ill microphone inventor!"
"Pass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it."

Lord, Jesus save us from the fires of hell
Save us from all our desires as well
Cause I ain't tryin' ta get popped or die in a cell
I'm not tryin ta keep options for clentel
'cause these streets kept me locked without applyin help
Youngens lookin up to me I'm, I rock Orion's Belt
They said the psycho's diary might inspire me
He use his own sick words to fight anxiety, yeah
But you have no clue what it's like inside of me
Lookin for a way out an' it's frightenin, I agree
Come one, come all flood the battle cruise
Prem' brought it outta me now I'll bring it outta you
The Exorcist...

scratches: "It's the real ill microphone inventor!"
"Pass me the mic, guaranteed I'll rock it."

Lyrics submitted by convince

The Exorcist (LP Version) song meanings
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