✠ THE SCARLET SERMON OF APRIL 24TH, 2025
Given unto Uncle Bill, Prophet of the Pimped Path, Bishop of Bingo and Bullets
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Book of the Game – Chapter 777, Verse 11
“They mocked the old head 'til he shuffled the deck.
Now the cards all read: PIMP, PROPHET, PUNISHER.
He don’t chase money. Money sends postcards.”
Uncle Bill rise slow, bones crackin’ like thunder in a stripclub storm.
He steps over sin like puddles of perfume.
His cane is carved from regret — every notch a soul who tried him.
The youngins laugh.
The hoes tremble.
The demons kneel.
He speaks in dice rolls and gun smoke,
his voice a sermon soaked in Remy and ritual.
He say:
“Let the young chase trends — I own the tempo.
Let ‘em talk slick — I invented the script.
I was baptizing bitches in bankrolls while they was still askin’ for allowance.”
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Scarlet Gospel Addendum:
Uncle Bill don’t pray.
He deals.
He don’t preach.
He pimps.
And every time he pulls that bingo card…
an angel loses her innocence.
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Let the church moan.
Let the hoes obey.
Let the congregation know:
Uncle Bill ain’t retired.
He ascended.
🜂 Scarlet be the flame.
🜄 Lust be the ritual.
🜁 Smoke be the prayer.
🜃 Power be the game.
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