Gunshowers

Simple minds get blown, shattered into pieces My thesis is thick like the Book of Eli We live we die, we put 'em in the sky Free your mind as a slave like the Fourth of July This a sandstorm created from original thought I bust boundaries son, you just do what you taught My vocab is powerful, spit shit subliminal Slang therapist, my whole style is criminal Bugged like Bob Digital, fly visual Mind body and soul, I'm a strong individual Come through in the final hour, with gun showers Stand the fuck up like Flav to fight the power I'm an activist, socialist, deadly ass poetrist Supreme Clientele, I'm a goddamn vocalist My thoughts are so heavy I could change a generation The x factor, we puttin' holes through inflation If you hit the rock bottom of the asphalt, that's likely your ass fault My lines are cocaine, the flow is bath salts I'm a for-sure Don, no one in your circle can box me That's like an oxymoron I flirt with building your empire Gotta shake the snake in the grass and spark sharks to swim by ya 'Cause every meek head that speak street cred ain't bangin' heat lead And probably cut like sweet bread wetting their sheets spread So nigga holla, I coin phrases to trigger dollars Its butterfly like the shirts made with bigger collars Women thank the scholar, the broad stealer Who laying them face down and ass up like a card dealer The time ceases, I keep a bed with dime pieces As I palm another phenomenon rhyme thesis 'Cause on the contrary, I get it popping like Dom Perignon beyond Tom, Harry and Dick You can declare me as sick Highly contagious Bath salt flows leaving bodies all on stages Locked behind cages, Don of all ages Its Ghostface nigga never plead in the cases But I plead the fifth, four-fifth by the belt buckle Crack stone-faced niggas with the steel of a knuckle Go ahead and chuckle, I have uncle murder your goons Hoes and balloons, OD'ing on flights from Colombia Pull your trunk through your neck when the cartel's done with you Supreme talk boss, verbal holocaust I'm a thriller Have you jumping out, they sleep, Wigs hand me a Miller Sick the dogs sitting in their shoes My iron monkeys spit banana clips with thick traps like Terry Crews Silver backs with high tracks, fuckin' relax Got a duffel bag full of guns son, dipped in black My culture rises in attack just like a vulture Ghostface the next Escobar or Sosa --- Gunshowers - Ghostface Killah, eLZhi and BADBADNOTGOOD