Skydiver coming down from my high
Grand canyon Hell hang glider I fly
I rise the high rise
I just sit by sometimes and meditate
Get so shattered I could levitate, or elevate his soul
Plasma cold
It crashed the mold when my plaster broke
In deep thoughts watch me stab it up
And drop a tear the shape of Africa
I miss my brother you can't fathom that
Like when we travel back,
Will it be all light or just absent black?
Back to my dagger plaques
Swagger jacking niggas make me clap 'em back
A clip of thoughts your wins is bought
I dragged mine from the ragged shack
Straight out the soil to a golden plaque
Behind a mosaic of candles lit for vandals tears
Ivory 40 cal, I call him Bill Laimbeer
My thoughts will air lift the cordial listener through the ear
But listen to the non-fiction sick shit that I steer
Presenting you the pictures from my skull crystal clear
They should add a couple windows there yeah
Yeah parachuting coming down from those clouds
Mansion floor plans planets and doubt
Reimagine crib treehouse architects mapping them dreams out
If you find me on that wax I'm not at Madam Tussauds house
He bound to down tsunamis
See a witness drown
Heard my mama wail I can't forget the sound
I air lift a misty pound then fly back to Chi-raq
Them bars wish I could pry back
For nine flat, you've grown in place like lilacs
A sway away from knife slash
Songs was gold
Who would know they worth making you lie flat
A blade of thoughts your wins is gone
I stuck mine in a written vault
I dug it out the ocean floor and grow it to a widow stalk
Congruent with the blueprint street lights they kept the vigil dark
That 30-30 Kerry Kittles, Winchester it kindles sparks
These visions burn inscriptions on the listeners in the heart
Fitting pictures in a crimson brain
Long blunts whooping crane
I think it need a couple window frames