Purified Thoughts

[Intro]
"Am I a good man? ..."

[Verse 1: Ghostface Killah]
Take my hands out my pockets you can see my thumbs
Both of them turned green from counting the ones
Memorized by the glory, word life
Cut off niggas who killed good but couldn't do nothing for me
Shout 'em out every once in the blue
And kid yo, I never rocked with
Long as they keep away, we cool
I devised my own stimulus plan, I'm nigga-rich
I'm tired of eating those crumbs and black licorice
To free my mind on Friday, I cleanse in the mosque
Let the imam pray over my head and wash
Thoughts, sterilized, purified, Godly
Watch his gift manifest the green like barley
If that shit happen I'll feed his whole army
Talking 'bout the angels and peeps in Somali
Try to stay humble and swallow my pride
In God I trust, not talkin' 'bout the ones on your five
Crisp dollar billing, catch me in a little hut in Benin
Village style, feeding the children
Big pots of jasmine tea with Mandela
Africans chanting me on like Coachella
Ghostface Bumaye, Kumbaya my Lord
My death day, 24 karat tomb I lay
Wishing they could bury me next to the prophets
Nabi, Lut, Is'a, Musa, Hadrat Muhammad, Ibrahim

[Interlude]
"Am I a good man?" (I don't know)
"Am I a fool?" (We'll see)

[Verse 2: Killah Priest]
The Lord takes me, gathering speeds before winds
High currents, distance, places be forming wings
Kings offering, thrones was there
Man with the seven crowns on his dome was near
Feet walked over rose petals sold from the ghetto
Face froze in gold like the pharaoh
Adorned in glory, robe of light, a power for his cherub
As He passed the path, white doves crossed the eyes of thugs
Eternal heartbeat and the dark fire in his blood
Seven hundred books were opened
Embraced to write, then threw the crooks in the ocean
Skin brass hair like it grew from goatskin
The chosen has spoken, tablets were broken
The smoke hand grabs an omen
Gravity grabbing me gradually, dragging me through Hell's cavity
This is blasphemy, I fell where the jackals feed
God felt bad for me but cast me in the Caspian Sea
Satan gave the dragon his key, Wu-Family's the faculty
K.P., K.P

[Interlude]
"Am I a good man? Am I a fool?
"Am I?"

[Verse 3: GZA]
He used to sling in the stairwell
Fast to put the rap on a thinking cap, ignite your hair gel
No such thing as the fair sale
He'll put the bullet out same day, delivery airmail
And on this level a thug will sell your garbage
No refund, the only exchange from the cartridge
But the users just kept coming back with their life earnings
Ready to make a deal, soul and pipe burning
The outcome tragic, the household dramatic
Living rooms for heating spoons, basements for addicts
Support from a bean, hit the courts from a fiend
Who betrayed one, who had lit the torch for his team
So he sent them gifts, body parts per diem
In a box that held prints but too dark to see 'em