Luyện nghe bài hát Purified Thoughts

"Am I a good ..."

[Ghostface
my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs
Both of them green, from countin the ones
by the glory, word life
Cut off niggaz who killed Bill but couldn't do for me
'em out every once in the blue and kid too
I rocked with, laws they keep away we cool
I my own stimulus, plan I'm niggarish
I'm tired of eatin those crumbs and licorice
The frame of mind so {?} like the mic
Let the imam pray my head and wash
Thoughts, sterilized, purified,
Watch us gift men and the green like barley
If that shit I'll feed his whole army
Talkin 'bout the and peeps in Somali
Try to stay humble, and my pride
In God I trust, now talk about the on your five
Crisp dollar billin, me in a little hut in Beneen
Village style, the children
Big pots of jasmine tea Mandela
Africans chantin me on Coachella
Ghostface bom ba ye, kumbiya my
My day, 24 karat tomb I lay
Wishin they could me, next to the prophets
Nabi, Lut, Is'haq, Musa, Harun,

"Am I a good man?" (I know)
"Am I a fool?" (We'll see)

Priest]
The Lord takes me, gathering before winds
currents, {?} places we formin wings
Kings offering, was there
Man with the 7 crowns on his was near
Feet walked over rose petals, song the ghetto
Face froze in like the pharaoh
A dawn in glory, of light, a powerful cherub
As he passed the path, white doves cost the of thugs
Eternal heartbeat, in the dark fire in his
700 books opened
It breaks to right, they the crooks in the ocean
Scared, brass hair like it grew from
The chosen has spoken, were broken
The smoke hand an omen
Gravity grabbin me gradually draggin me hell's cavity
is blasphemy, I fell where the jackals be
God felt bad for me but cast me Caspain Sea
Satan his key, Wu-Family's the faculty
K.P., K.P.

"Am I a man? Am I a fool?
"Am I?"

He used to in the stairwell
Fast to put the rap on thinking cap, your hair gel
No such thing as a sale
put the bullet out same day, delivery airmail
And on this level a sell you garbage
No refund, the only from the cartridge
Where the youths is kept comin back with life earnings
Ready to make a deal, soul and burning
The outcome tragic, dramatic
Living to {?}, basements to attics
from the B, hit the courts from a fiend
who betrayed one, who had lit the for his team
So they sent him gifts, body per diem
in a box held prints but too dark to see 'em