It was the beauty that caught me and held my soul hostage…
Remember those days? Had you smellin’ my boxers.
Cocaine trafficking, your boy’s back again,
Moving bricks like I got a degree in scaffolding.
Fucking with some cats from Newark…half of them Jewish,
Cool white boys riding around, blasting my music,
And I’m taxin’ them like Jackson-Hewitt.
War’s extremely serious and it saddens me.
Anything worth having is hard to keep,
I love you like my coffee, so hot and so sweet.
So, let’s stick it out so we never regret it,
I could forgive the past–but I never forget it.
Bitch, you ain’t got nothin on the rich,
Every other day my whole dress code switch.
It was magic, I felt the bond between us.
She was a jelly to my peanuts, Mars to Venus,
The Earth to my sun, moon and stars,
We added up mathematically…
It’s like I had a bad habit, B!
Cancun…catch me in the room, eatin’ grouper.
Why is the sky blue? Why is water wet?
Why did Judas rat to the Romans while Jesus slept?
I don’t get pat down, you know what’s on the waist,
I don’t mean Jazz when I say I “count base.”
Fly Louis sneakers, Purple Tape coming out the speakers,
Bumped into my high school teachers,
They said I wouldn’t be nothing, sitting on the bleachers.
Now I’m sitting in the Phantom, trynna figure out the features.
I’m a big fish now, I watch for the leeches.
Ghostface, catch the blast of a hype verse,
My glock bursts, leave in a hearse, I did worse.
I come rough, tough like an elephant tusk,
Ya head rush, fly like Egyptian musk.
The God’s tropical…ladies call me ‘Black Fruit Punch.’
Smell the pinetrees in the air, sleigh bells are ringing,
Toy stores are out of control, and kids singing.
That night before Christmas, dashing through the snow,
Rudolph the Reindeer, red nose that glow.
It’s all about the candy canes and Christmas list,
North Pole and that chubby, jolly, old Saint Nick,
The little elves getting busy, in Santa workshop
And how gingerbread men keep they buttons on top.
Wooden soldiers and chestnuts, roasting like marshmallows
Goodfellas, chocolate pudding pops and Jell-O’s.
It’s the gift, the cookies and milk on the mantle,
The mistletoe, that scent from that peppermint candles,
That warm French vanilla, mean coat with zippers,
Bareskin robe dragon with Versace slippers.
Around the fireplace we breathe, shirts are short sleeve,
We stayin’ up all night on Christmas Eve!
Doin forever shit: like pissin out the window on turnpikes,
Robbin niggaz for leathers, high swipin on dirt bikes.
Roll big blunts, a whole ounce of reefer
Rocked that ‘Black and Yellow’ before Wiz Khalifa
It’s a killer bee color scheme
Can you cook darlin? At the stove you’re revolvin’…
Bake macaroni, turkey wings, a nigga starvin
Here take my number, let me pull the chair from under
I had fun, plus your backyard speak with thunder!
Yo, you 14-carat gold slum computer wizard,
Tappin’ inside my rap vein causes blizzards!
You’re out of luck like two dogs stuck.
Funny how the love be fake…but I ain’t stressin’.
Thankful for the love that’s genuine…appreciate the blessin’.
To increase your life line, strengthen your heart.
Eat fish…that brain food will get you smart.
Yoga…deep meditational tactics,
You no good? Then just practice, cause practice makes perfect.
Stop burying your lies, and bring the truth to the surface.
Ghostface Killah, “Food,” from BADBADNOTGOOD & Ghostface Killah’s Sour Soul, 2015
They say the taste of revenge is sweet.
Well, let me see…
Prepare the table for a feast, take a seat, now let’s eat.
Make peace not war, make babies some more, Keep a smile when you travel from shore to shore.
Full moons, skunk weed all up in the room;
You got the munchies, baby? Ice cold milk and Lorna Doones.
I’m that neighborhood blizzard flooding these streets with snow.
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 poetist
Supreme Clientele, I’m a goddamn vocalist!
Sometimes I look up at the stars and analyze the sky,
And ask myself: was I meant to be here…why?
Fuck the Febreze, I’m stinkin’ like that Ol’ Dirty Bastard.
That’s that Wu and Mobb shit; don’t turn it up…blast it.