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Contra
by
Charles Hamilton
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ManKind & Charles Hamilton ft. The I.S.A. and Kaila Bulé - “Contra” Prepare the thought like Confucius to give you Lucius Eye of a lion until I’m flying high with Anubis Now I’m with the falcons who used to this, nothing’s ludicrous Live from Gomorrah to spit [?] get through with this Nostradamus is where the poverty’s astronomic So full-speed ahead, the run-and-gun is the logic Spiritually inclined, but they’re judging off my Ebonics We drew the short end of the stick like the Islamics Just one step away from Muhammad and being prophets We painted pictures all through these scripts then gave you comics So you could share this sh*t if you want, but f**k the commеnts ‘Cause, sonically, I’m not here to stunt, I’m paying homagе To these who redirecting the solars to new solutions Wise men who letting sh*t off for revolution Still levels to rise, pursuing my levelution in true Inevitability, Biblical evolution, my Genesis (x2) I ran contraband, Iran Contra I ran contraband, Iran Contra Cocaine was never my sponsor Cocaine was never my sponsor Straight grime, my man, that’s my mantra—uh! Shrimp, lobsters, oysters, fine pasta—uh! Wine, vodka, high off prime ganja Watching a Black Holocaust, Mein Kampf, divide, conquer Talk about it, they look at me like I’m bonkers Refining my mind and realigning my chakras I’m been feeling kind of off, silent voices in my head Nodding off, working on my chi and fighting force ManKind tight and macro, Microsoft I’m Xboxing with God, swinging titans’ arms Headshot to your pride, [?] Probably get the shock of your life. I always knew she’d be Dark chocolate. Raised on the block we’re most often—uh! They’re on Rocky, [?] the Rocky Road Ice cream cones, no ice cream to top it though—uh! Reach the heights like “La Di Da” on these maricones Trying to throw me off, I’m trying to find my zone Contraband Iran/I ran like marathons, pop With soul—uh!—knowing blocks don’t hug back, so f**k that Tie your shoes, find your sole/soul, n***a (x2) I ran contraband, Iran Contra I ran contraband, Iran Contra Cocaine was never my sponsor Cocaine was never my sponsor God blessing all the trap n***as Pacman chase the pack-flippers. You know I love her strong, she hugging the block with nothing on Kind of feels like there’s nothing wrong Trying to Do the Right Thing, smoking on a Spike Lee joint Long-distance needs at least three points Moving point-blank period pieces. Sweet Jesus Bloody Mary is something scary, every level is Harder to exit, I try and exit through the gift shop It’s in the pits of Hell—take a pit stop. You in the pits What a pitiful feeling that’s in the pit of your stomach Frank Castle fitted to Punish, I’m un- -worthy of your love, blessed by your grace Trying to pass the test of my faith, multiple choice True or false prophets speaking in tongues Altered beasts beating the drums while they’re eating your young (x2) I ran contraband, Iran Contra I ran contraband, Iran Contra Cocaine was never my sponsor Cocaine was never my sponsor
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