Ghostface k**ah - Purified Thoughts lyrics

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