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Return of the Prophet
State of Mind
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Lyrics
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Shotgun in the W-wreck
I'm on deck, sippin' on Beck
'Til my mind gets runny off this
Feelin' good as hard sex
Four dollars on six
If you think you got next
You're being correct
Complex contest with the rhyme connect
Eat nice off flesh on my stomach convex
This is more than a flex
Leave your brain concave
Heaven's broken through the wire like a young Kanye
Fuck D&C, fuck a D, stop it dude
I can still hear him chirpin' like a fuckin' cockatoo
All these fuckin' cockatoos just to get a little fame
So I break any of you with barely a little pain
Tell me what's spittin' game
Cryogenic be flowin'
Y'all better be knowin' I got sick of a time
I'm out from these blowers
In with it
If you think you killin' with it
I think you should chill with it
It's a vibe, right?
I'm still out of my mind
So however you want it, I got it
Back on burners, the return of the prophet
Vibe, I'm still out of my mind
So however you want it, I got it
Back on burners, the return of the prophet
Fuck what you heard
Ain't Nathan the nice
I remain a top act since day in the life
Got a nice bird with me if I'm gamin' her right
Maybe I could take her home and cock that
Right, 'cause I'm off that
Type stain and leather wrapped stuff
Rock a double XL white tee to keep the black tucked
Links be cashed up
You lames jacked up
And we react like a deck of them packs up
Horse down, more foulin' bosses
Course the boss of waters
Force the all-stars
I'm open to the five star donor
Off the six shots and I'm off the Corona
They say I got a problem
I'm a shit starter
I see you diarrhea, bitch, just hit harder
Covered in the top spot since I rock starter
Rat snake chase everywhere I got drama
I'm the norm
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It's a vibe, right?
I'm still out of my mind
So however you want it, I got it
Back on burners, the return of the prophet
Vibe, I'm still out of my mind
So however you want it, I got it
Back on burners, the return of the prophet
I know this shit's new to you
And on the flip (On the flip)
I was set in utero
Rest in death like a funeral
I'm on the grind all the time
It's word to the dirt under my cuticles, right
Yo, you got a pseudo flow
Leaky tap raps
I'm Pete D.C. on the track, throw the mask, Jack
A convict, but I never smack that
I smash head like Mike Jack
Tracks for the anus
Black jack, parade in the flow
Which you could never be
Me with the energy (The energy)
It's like I'm on methamphetamine
No thumb for fame
My song serenades summer like summer shades
It's summer days
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It's the return of the
Return of the
Return of the
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