Purified Thoughts

[Produced by Frank Dukes] [Intro] "Am I a good man? ..." [Ghostface Killah] Take my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs Both of them turned green from counting the ones Memorized by the glory, word life Cut off niggas who killed good but couldn't do nothing for me Shout 'em out every once in the blue And kid yo, I never rocked with laws they keep away, we cool I devised my own stimulus plan, I'm niggarish I'm tired of eating those crumbs and black licorice To free my mind on Friday, I cleanse in the mosque Let the imam pray over my head and wash Thoughts, sterilized, purified, Godly Watch us gift men and fetch the green like barley If that shit happen I'll feed his whole army Talking 'bout the angels and peeps in Somali Try to stay humble and swallow my pride In God I trust, now talk about the ones on your five Crisp dollar billing, catch me in a little hut in Benin Village style, feeding the children Big pots of jasmine tea with Mandela Africans chanting me on like Coachella Ghostface Bumaye, Kumbaya my Lord My death day, 24 karat tomb I lay Wishing they could bury me next to the prophets Nabi, Lut, Is'a, Musa, Hadrat Muhammad, Ibrahim "Am I a good man?" (I don't know) "Am I a fool?" (We'll see) [Killah Priest] The Lord takes me, gathering speeds before winds High currents, distance, places be forming wings Kings offering, thrones was there Man with the seven crowns on his dome was near Feet walked over rose petals sold from the ghetto Face froze in gold like the pharaoh Adorned in glory, robe of light, a power for his cherub As He passed the path, white doves crossed the eyes of thugs Eternal heartbeat and the dark fire in his blood Seven hundred books were opened Embraced to write, then threw the crooks in the ocean Skin brass hair like it grew from goatskin The chosen has spoken, tablets were broken The smoke hand grabs an omen Gravity grabbing me gradually, dragging me through Hell's cavity This is blasphemy, I fell where the jackals feed God felt bad for me but cast me in the Caspian Sea Satan gave the dragon his key, Wu-Family's the faculty K.P., K.P "Am I a good man? Am I a fool? "Am I?" [GZA] He used to sling in the stairwell Fast to put the rap on a thinking cap, ignite your hair gel No such thing as the fair sale He'll put the bullet out same day, delivery airmail And on this level a thug will sell your garbage No refund, the only exchange from the cartridge But the users just kept coming back with their life earnings Ready to make a deal, soul and pipe burning The outcome tragic, the household dramatic Living rooms for heating spoons, basements for addicts Support from a bean, hit the courts from a fiend Who betrayed one, who had lit the torch for his team So he sent them gifts, body parts per diem In a box that held prints but too dark to see 'em