Purified Thoughts Lyrics - Apollo Kids - Ghostface Killah

"Am I a good man? ..." 

[Ghostface Killah] 

Take my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs 

Both of them turned green, from countin the ones 

Memorized by the glory, word life 

Cut off niggaz who killed Bill but couldn't do nuttin for me 

Shout 'em out every once in the blue and kid too 

I never rocked with, laws they keep away we cool 

I devised my own stimulus, plan I'm niggarish 

I'm tired of eatin those crumbs and black licorice 

The frame of mind so {?} like cleansin the mic 

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 

Talkin '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 billin, catch me in a little hut in Beneen 

Village style, feedin the children 

Big pots of jasmine tea with Mandela 

Africans chantin me on like Coachella 

Ghostface bom ba ye, kumbiya my Lord 

My death day, 24 karat tomb I lay 

Wishin they could bury me, next to the prophets 

Nabi, Lut, Is'haq, Musa, Harun, Muhammad 

Ibrahim 

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"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, {?} places we formin wings 

Kings offering, thrones was there 

Man with the 7 crowns on his dome was near 

Feet walked over rose petals, song from the ghetto 

Face froze in gold like the pharaoh 

A dawn in glory, robe of light, a powerful cherub 

As he passed the path, white doves cost the eyes of thugs 

Eternal heartbeat, in the dark fire in his blood 

700 books were opened 

It breaks to right, they threw the crooks in the ocean 

Scared, brass hair like it grew from goatskin 

The chosen has spoken, tablets were broken 

The smoke hand grabs an omen 

Gravity grabbin me gradually draggin me through hell's cavity 

This is blasphemy, I fell where the jackals be 

God felt bad for me but cast me into Caspain Sea 

Satan draggin his key, Wu-Family's the faculty 

K.P., K.P. 

Photos 

"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 thinking cap, ignite your hair gel 

No such thing as a fair sale 

He'll put the bullet out same day, delivery airmail 

And on this level a thug'll sell you garbage 

No refund, the only exchange from the cartridge 

Where the youths is kept comin back with they life earnings 

Ready to make a deal, soul and pipe burning 

The outcome tragic, household dramatic 

Living rooms to {?}, basements to attics 

Support from the B, hit the courts from a fiend 

who betrayed one, who had lit the torch for his team 

So they sent him gifts, body parts per diem 

in a box that held prints but too dark to see 'em