7th Ghost

Bring the light to the dark, AOTP, yeah

I Self, Lord and Master

I'm not a rapper

The industry been in a nigga pockets, since Napster

So me explainin' why I'm still grinding, I don't have to

I'd sell my masters, if the cash come

Cause my girl need a new car and baby need Pampers

It's real shit, y'all never know about it ask us

Side jobs in retail, detail cars and ride trash trucks

Never complain, we never had much

The ends won't justify the means, it don't add up

Rap, work, and sell dope, now that's a mash-up

Kids say they wanna do this? I just crack up

I tell em stay in school, fool, you need a backup

Aye-o I'm blowin' brown every day to keep the stress down

And niggas that I seem to let 'round, they always let down

So I'm building a bunch of young niggas like Brett Brown

They all ballers, keeping niggas in check so when I

Big up my set I'm paying homage to Pharaohs

And when you hear me spit, acknowledge my vowels

It's probably foul

I never change the language for change

It's slang written

Half my life gambling heists to keep that thing with 'em

Suplex mangler, but it's a cold word baby

So I'm a North Face and Cumberland whore chasin'

So knuckle up or get cutted up

Or smacked with the butt of the gun, buttercup

For trying to fuck with us

Who dumb enough to try one of us?

We peelin' your girl off the grill of a Hummer truck, when the sun come up

Who one of us? Raise your face to the skies

And watch the mortals make way for the return of the Gods

Pharaohs

(2x)

AOTP cock the latch back clack clack

OPG got the straps in the back pack

Bodies in the trunk of the '96 hatch-back

Punch you in the face, slap your man out his snap back

I'm John Allen Muhammad living out of a van

Picking off bystanders with a rifle in hand

I'm demented, I'm a couple cards short of a full deck

I'm a liar, I'm the charismatic man in a pulpit

I'm AOTP, Demigods, JMT

A faith healer, healing through death on CD

I am not a role model, you should raise your own kids (come on)

I'm a dirty rap nigga with fruit flies in my crib

I'm strange, I'm deranged, I'm fascinated with death

I chain smoke cigarettes, I got terrible breath

The show's almost over, only two songs left

So cop a T-shirt, find the exit and step nigga

Aye-o fuck being a good person

I'm in the hood workin'

Smoking shit to numb my pain

I don't know if you could nurse him

Doctors can't figure out what to do with him

Once upon a time, he used to have screws in him

Now Lucifer let loose in me

They not used to me

I'm not what I used to be

I used to be a young nigga, silly state of mind

Now I'm just a nigga going crazy like he facing time (uhh)

I'm from the hood where the young die

If you don't lay low, you get hung high

Nigga I lay low, and still hang high

In my head, shit only hit the fan when your man die

I take a sip of this liquor inspired with hearses

Nobody surviving, I smoke my weed out of Bible verses

Inspire churches to sin, what?

I inspire churches to bring niggas like me in, clear of my sins but

Why would you ever try to be god with me?

Why would you bother me, why don't you ever see prophecy?

Possibly honestly, Sodom, Gomorrah atrocity

Mephistopheles at the door to door, a monopoly

Why would you lie to me? Why would you see the Allah in me?

Am I the only one who see comedy in monogamy?

I lay back, eat mozzarella and sliced swordfish

Put my feet up on the table in my nice office

Black mask, black millimeter, white Porsches

Every single rhyme Vinnie write, type gorgeous

Hahahahaha listen, Pistolero Pazzie

[Hook x2]