The Book of Enoch Speaks of Spiritual Warfare Lyrics

Sim, simmer, simmer down my nigga

Slow your roll, who told you we top of the totem pole

Who's misinforming the masses depriving us of the nourishment for our body and soul

Encouragement ain't enough, you should want it for you alone

Go and get it you gone

A don donning the garments of hoteps, from afrocentrist ancestors leaving us messages

Purest form of the peace that we seek is seen where the Mecca is

Never been one to Hyde in corruption, but niggas Jekyllish

So if you choose to refuse to listen then put some pep in your stepping

Any second another wave of these steppers is spinning back with intentions of splitting your melon

So make your killing my nigga and take your food back to the deli

She performing without the lube be back in a jiffy

Now it's back to the basics

Hold this mic like a semi automatic weapons in my parka, it's for protection

My thoughts tend to get darker just pass me the method

In the smoke of this cannabis I can see your perspective

In a room full of mirrors, I was searching for exits

Went right to the booth, laid down the truth and then left it

I'm still tested by the universe, feeling cursed, feeling worse

When I feel like I've been immersed with an overwhelming amount of the knowledge received

My philosophy just happens to be up to par with the writings of Socrates

Identifying anomalies

I'm sick of being simulated

So I live my life with grace

Less tears, more peers, less bottles of pain

Six months I've been loc'd in with this Rastafarian knowledge

Give you scripture and say it's forgotten like The Book of Enoch

This an apocalyptic themed redux

Nomadic how I move, I can never kick my feet up

Three blunts in I'm probably leaning and y'all still find it difficult to keep up

I'm still a nigga that fit the description when they see us

Even if it's no witness they still need a way to kill us

Rest in peace to my niggas, ain't plan to pour this liter

Or this fifth, I sipped some hard liquor, can't remember the name though

All black attire like Bruce Wayne in that black Camaro

Weed smoke in the air got you lifting your nose up just like Dinero

C'est la vie to Laissez, the fare charges are like my apparel

It's only French or Italiano

Vacation just to fornicate in Capistrano

These niggas envious, sully my name, I ain't Kano

I bring the pain though

Put all my niggas on my payroll and they don't need it

I'm up, I could never move down like a paraplegic

My prime is Hip-Hop's renaissance, it's a lot I can teach them

None of my niggas throw the Roc up

Y'all arms ain't even long enough to reach them

It's fuck the industry, imma sink my teeth in these crackers food and I ain't leaving