What I got, come and get some
Get on up, hustler of culture
I stand on the corner of the block slangin' Amethyst Rocks
Drinkin' 40's of mother earth's private nectar stock dodgin' cops
Cause 5-0 be the 666
And I need a fix of that purple rain
The type of sh** that drives membranes insane
Oh yeah I'm in the fast lane snorting candy yams
That free my body and soul and send me like shazzam
Never question who I am
God knows, and I know God personally
In fact he lets me call him “me”
I be one with rain and stars and things
With dancing feet and watermelon rings
I brings the sunshine and the moon
And the wind blows my tune, meanwhile
I spoon powdered drumbeats into plastic bags
Selling kilos of kintae skag
Taking drags off of collards and cornbread
Freebasing through saxophones and flutes like mad
The high notes make me space-float
I be exhaling in rings that circle Saturn
Leaving stains in my veins in astrological patterns.
Yea I'm serious "B"
Doe gone n***as plotted sh** lovely
But the feds is also plotting me
They're trying to imprison my astrology
Put our stars behind bars
Our stars and stripes
Using blood splattered banners as nationalist kites
But I control the wind, that's why they call it the hawk
I am Horus, son of Isis, son of Osiris
Worshiped as Jesus resurrected
Like Lazarus
But you can call me lazzy, lazy
Yea I'm lazy cause I'd rather sit and build
Than work and plow a field
Worshiping a daily yield of cash green crops
Your evolution stopped the evolution of your technology
A society of automatic tellers and money machines
n***a what, my culture is lima beans and tambourines
Dreams, manifest dreams real, not consistent with rationale
I dance for no reason, for reason you can't dance
Call me an activist of intellectualized circumstance
You can't learn my steps until you unlearn your thoughts
Spirit, soul can't be store-bought, f** thought
Leads to naught, simply leads to you trying to figure me out
Your intellect's disfiguring your soul
Your being's not whole, check your flagpole
Stars and stripes, your astrology's
Imprisoned by your concept of white, of self
What's your plan for spiritual health? Calling reality unreal
Your line of thought is tangled
The Star Spangled got your soul mangled, your being's angled
Forbidding you to be real and feel, you can't find truth
With an axe or a drill in a white house on a hill or
In factories or plants made of steel.
Stealing us was the smartest thing you ever did,
Too bad you don't teach the
Truth to your kids, My influence on user reflection you
See when you look in your minstrel mirror and talk about
Your culture, your existence is that of a schizophrenic
Vulture who thinks he has enough life in him to prey on the dead
Not knowing that the dead ain't dead, that he ain't got enough
Spirituality to know how to pray. Yeah, there's no repentance
You're bound to live in infinite consecutive executive life sentence
So while you're busy serving time I'll be in sync with the
Moon while you run from the sun
Life of the womb, reflected by guns
Worship of moons, I am the sun
And I am Public Enemy number One
One One One, One One One
That's seven and I'll be out on the block
Hustling culture slinging amethyst rocks