Gunshowers Lyrics - Sour Soul - Badbadnotgood

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 

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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 

Photos 

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