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Gospel Lyrics >> Song Title :: Blazin' Mics
Gospel Lyrics >> Song Artist :: TBone
I'm sweet like cinnamon when I'm spittin' this lyrical venum
Giving rappers the blues like denim, when I'm killin' em
Fillin' em with these syllable, synonyms of adrenaline spillin' off my spiritual tongue
Then numbing 'em like penicillin, plus I'm trying to reach the lost like Gilligan
God willin' the spiritual healin', will stop the drug dealing, and killing
Because I'm feeling like I'm ready to lose my mind, so many bullets be flying
And rydas be dying, gotta make a difference, for instance
The inmates in prisons make bad decisions, for lack of wisdom
So I cut them open, and make incisions, fill 'em with spiritualism
Tell 'em about the one that's arisen, how they can be free in they spirit
And have they sins forgiven, by the one who died on the cross
Cuz even when they were into all their drinking and smoking
He loved them even while they were lost, so please listen to me
And stop dissin' a G, cuz I got they remedy on how ya'll can be free
I'm not a Jehovah witness, but I witness for Jehovah
Back in the day, the 1st to slang cane and the baking soda, but nowadays
I like preachin' the word, like a drug dealers, slangin' holy rock on the curb
Eyes blurred off the holy ghost, contact smoke, gotcha tripppin' off my rims
Crush eyes and my rope, plus I'm gifted with flows and wrist is frozen
I thought you all knew dawg, what, I'm God's chosen
Highly favored, standing with the elite, that's stand apart dawg
Anointed, bring the word to the streets, aint into entertainin' the fame or set you claimin'
Tha game of namin', unless the name I'm naming' is Jesus on the throne and reigning
Painting a picture for G's bangin', oh how the Lord can save 'em
Train 'em like a Baltimore Raven, engraving, the name of Jesus across they heart
Cuz its breakin', plus Satan is waitin', anticipatin', and hatin'
But ones we got 'em, there ain't no escaping
I been doing this for 12 years, it aint easy ya'll, to make hit records that are off the heezy ya'll
Epecially when them bustas sippin' on that haterade
Talkin' behind your back and trying to stop you on a day to day
I don't make music for 'em playa hatas anyway, this is for killers and thugs
That's sippin' on the Alize, run a ways and essays locked down in prison
Why them, they the ones in need of a physician
And I know the perfect doctor ya'll that can heal you when you answer to the alter call
He can, fill all the emptiness and void in your heart
That's why I rhyme out of a need and not love of the art, so listen
My only mission is soul fishing, so when the rapture happens
Faces will be on the back of milk cartons missing
Chorus
Blazing microphones, bringing nothing but that heat from the west coast
Chase beats, Bone lyrics like Vito Corleone, we be running things so act like you all know
Boneyard cant be stopped now
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