smoke from the lye we breathin' When the pen bleed don't think the Hebrew scribe is grievin' [Hook: x4] It's the resin, let it burn to the Heavens The
black bird burning down to the earth Turning into a fire breathing dragon [Chorus: x2] [Priest:] It seems like a giant hologram of the president head Above my projects
a total mad account for myself Spittin logic through a relay of words that might burn through a century two-ways it's clear to the eyes Then project,
wheezin, losin his breath from smokin trees and I'm still breathin, bleedin because it's frontin season Now I got that project belt, international/national
squad stack plenty of G's And if your girl like to smoke we got plenty of trees [J. Cole - Verse 2] Hey, as the troubles of the world unfurl My niggas hit the trees
Of a celestial nazarite, with appetites to bite from the tree of life Smight, eadamite, sodomite, more bites, in the land of kananights Following six flame a lights, burning
, to bein' chased by New York Cops out the precincts an' words was bricks We buildin' projects to pyramids Evil kid, I destroy your ass like London Bridge Smoke trees
They thought it was cool to burn crosses in your front lawn As they hung you from trees in your backyard They thought it was cool to leave you thirsty
They thought it was cool to burn crosses on your front lawn as they hung you from trees in your backyard They thought it was cool to leave you thirsty
Get em cleaned up you know, show em the light that they're all bark and no bite, like a tree trunk We slash and burn em, Indelibles, The Fire In Which
ten different ways, start at your armpiece Then we continue Plus I won't stop til your whole frame is deceased Aiyyo man all your firestations cause these rappers burn
fiend she put the pipe down, but for every year she was sober her sons heart simultaneously grew colder he started hanging out selling bags in the projects
mom was a feen she put the pipe down, but forever yeah she was sober her sons heart simultaneously grew colder he started hanging out selling bags in the projects
mind be twisted Got me itchin' gotta have it Niggas want to approach Lord Infamous But I am loco I will blow Your head off your shoulders (Project Pat
card Me, Bird, Binkie, Santana, bad with the hammer My dun power through a hundred grand up Words from the Martin Luther King version We burn versus then
outta luck Young bucks carrying gats, stay fat for what We all slipped through the po-nig nobody bust Freeze, we in the breeze with the blunts Nobody drop the trees
to a holy land Lord know a man, sharp blades slash your vitals Recitals will fight you and entice you to burn Bibles Homicidal, Hologram burn churches
a holy land Lord know a man Sharp blades slash your vitals Recitals will fight you and entice you to burn Bibles Homicidal Hologram burn churches Murders
