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Purified Thoughts
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Ghostface Killah
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1
"Am I a good man? ..."
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Take my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs
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Both of them turned green, from countin' the ones
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Memorized by the glory, word life
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Cut off niggas who killed Bill but couldn't do nothin' for me
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Shout 'em out every once in the blue and kid too
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I never rocked with, laws they keep away we cool
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I devised my own stimulus, plan I'm niggarish
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I'm tired of eatin those crumbs and black licorice
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The frame of mind so ? like cleansin' the mic
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Let the imam pray over my head and wash
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Thoughts, sterilized, purified, Godly
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Watch us gift men and fetch the green like barley
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If that shit happen I'll feed his whole army
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Talkin' 'bout the angels and peeps in Somali
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Try to stay humble, and swallow my pride
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In God I trust, now talk about the ones on your five
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Crisp dollar billin', catch me in a little hut in Beneen
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Village style, feedin' the children
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Big pots of jasmine tea with Mandela
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Africans chantin me on like Coachella
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Ghostface bom ba ye, kumbiya my Lord
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My death day, 24 karat tomb I lay
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Wishin they could bury me, next to the prophets
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Nabi, Lut, Is'haq, Musa, Harun, Muhammad
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Ibrahim
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"Am I a good man?" (I don't know)
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"Am I a fool?" (We'll see)
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The Lord takes me, gathering speeds before winds
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High currents ? places we formin wings
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Kings offering, thrones was there
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Man with the 7 crowns on his dome was near
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Feet walked over rose petals, song from the ghetto
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Face froze in gold like the pharaoh
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A dawn in glory, robe of light, a powerful cherub
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As he passed the path, white doves cost the eyes of thugs
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Eternal heartbeat, in the dark fire in his blood
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700 books were opened
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It breaks to right, they threw the crooks in the ocean
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Scared, brass hair like it grew from goatskin
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The chosen has spoken, tablets were broken
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The smoke hand grabs an omen
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Gravity grabbin' me gradually draggin' me through hell's cavity
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This is blasphemy, I fell where the jackals be
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God felt bad for me but cast me into Caspain' Sea
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Satan draggin' his key, Wu-Family's the faculty
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K.P., K.P.
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"Am I a good man? Am I a fool?
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"Am I?"
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He used to sling in the stairwell
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Fast to put the rap on thinking cap, ignite your hair gel
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No such thing as a fair sale
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He'll put the bullet out same day, delivery airmail
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And on this level a thug'll sell you garbage
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No refund, the only exchange from the cartridge
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Where the youths is kept comin' back with they life earnings
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Ready to make a deal, soul and pipe burning
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The outcome tragic, household dramatic
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Living rooms to ?, basements to attics
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Support from the B, hit the courts from a fiend
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Who betrayed one, who had lit the torch for his team
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So they sent him gifts, body parts per diem
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In a box that held prints but too dark to see 'em
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