[Intro]

“Soul" is sometimes defined as the essence of the human spirit. In the popular music of the 1960s, soul meant something more tangible. It was a shout of joy, a cry of pain and an emblem of uninhibited self-expression

[Verse 1]

Dreams of living big, la vida loca

Peep the return of the Phoenix mistaken for a joker

I wear my heart on my sleeve, I pump the music

The pulse in my wrist will circulate the flow and make me breathe

I came from dough, celebrate my roots without the trees

The pen my weapon, you get to stepping, it’s rest in peace

Black excellence, I separate the sentiments

Inspect the failed experiments of military regiments

Historical facts that sent us back to the exodus

Blacks Jews that drop Jewels, it’s unprecedent

The dreamer, the prima of the underachievers

Shadow boxing of Sun Tzu would make an overnight believer

With balls of Vegeta

It means nothing in this world that make your soul grow cold like Frieza

Pull the lever, I’m changing the game

Yeah, my shit about to drop, it’s silence

As they scream for me to drop diamonds like Cassandra Cain

[Verse 2]

Let me spit another verse for ya

Let me dissect who the best, you bring the best lawyer

Then maybe we could get a judge to oversee the case

Prolly' call the police 'cause normally they chase

B, I leave no trace

My sentences is sentences of murder

Boy I could go to jail for the things that I thought of

Boy I could write in Braille if they wanna feel the product

Niggas bang for the Rolex as they rob for the Prada

On social media they all Aphemia for all the cheers and likes

That’s how I know you'll sell your soul for a pair of Nikes

I ain’t better, I’m lost on the path to the afterlife

Don’t wanna be fresh to death, yeah I wanna be fresh to paradise

On the steps after Christ, when my wealth maximise

The conundrum of the cake that we chase in this slice of life

It means nothing when you buried in the lonely ground

Wishing for a holy ground, pray my homies hold me down

Yeah, the dissection, the perfection, yeah!