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