Verse 1 [Plasthic Slash]:

The Palm readers that arm niggas and charm divas

Psalm speakers, alms givers that calm rivers

Amphibious, beast mode on water or land

Alter your plans, order your brand, butter or jam

Got bread, make I buy timbs or pay for sessions?

Hot head, shake off pipe dreams and pray for blessings

Back to the lessons, Reaper wants me back to the essence

Still preach rap to the sevens, each track is a weapon

Niggas aim guns in morning service, clap for the reverend

Itch that came from the honey's cervix, clap for the brethren

She’s a hood rat, wants thick dick in her waist

Hit a good patch, punched Slick Rick in the face

Criminal, rhymes sinister, reign's marengo

Lyrical, prime minister, James Gachengo

Wifey plays down the hype, says to lay down the mic

Arguments had to end when I laid down the pipe

Good strokes, leave that pussy with hemiparesis

Rude folks, lift ya crucifix, telekinesis

Never quitting, forever spitting clever writtens

Brainstorm and shine, book of rhymes is weather-beaten

The soldier's fitness will grow the business, hardliners

Show the sickness till he’s old and witless, alzheimer's

Part-timers, chart climbers and chumps in a mic dance

Quite tense but my gems come up trumps like Mike Pence

Vise grip, nice whip, bash cops in back blocks

Money don't grow on trees? Release these cash crops

These chics be grass hops, pass hops in glass cups

Acts up in crass pubs, lass fucks for fast bucks

Wish a nigga would, pistol covered by the lumberjack

Silencer good, keeps the thunderclaps under wraps

When I slumber cats, graveyard silence, clips have torn his face

The cold hands of death seek a warm embrace

Verse 2 [Mic Priest]:

A master like Obiwan so be warned

Whose quotes is don? The folks respond, only one

Mic priest! Working night shift to grow his funds

Pieces in my suit ain't three, it's a coat of arms

Flow's reborn at the stroke of dawn

Poetic license drive you Insane to the point of no return

Poetry learned and prose discerned

Made ends meet with a ball of yarn and the bridges I slowly burned

Radiate sun beams, Divinely told rhymes are gold

Mind control and rare like snuff films

Leverage the food chain for my offspring

To avoid loose change, tighten up the purse strings

Grace is a given but not based on religion

Price on his head Match his facial description

Place your head in the box, laced with a ribbon

Up close with the snub nosed make you a gibbon

Priest with the flows a young kiss mixed with some hov

Beast in the grove I lift the piece and you ghost

Diminished dough, swiftly approach reaching for toast

Write rhymes like white lines blazed with heat from the stove

Meditate, strictly odd pose few minutes or so

Fleeced for my Soul with silver when my lyrics are gold?

Sinister flows, ways of the mystics I chose

My administered dose lethal like lithium smoke

Need me a fix of that clean dope, I been broke

Either writing or selling lines, you help the fiends cope

Fella with death in his pouch seen as an obscene joke

Left em speechless when the piece beneath his jeans spoke

Cock and pull it back Feds asking, who is that?

I dream in colors, smack rappers blue and black

True in fact, they want the crack hoodie rap

Many applaud violence only a few truly clap