Gunshowers

Simple minds get blown, shattered into pieces

My thesis is thick like the Book of Eli

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're 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

Cuz every meek head that speak street cred ain't banging 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

Because on the contrary, I get it popping like Dom Perignon beyond Tom, Harry and Dick

You can declare me as sick

Highly contagious

Bathsalt flows leaving bodies all on stages

Locked behind cages, Don of all ages

It's 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, ODing 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 monkies spit banana clips with thick traps like Terry Crews

Silverbacks with high tracks, fuckin relax

Got a duffle bag full of guns son, dipped in black

My culture rises in attack just like a vulture

Ghostface the next Escobar or Sosa