Thinking To Myself Lyrics by Esham

Thinking To Myself Lyrics

    [esham]
    Well i was thinkin to myself, how could i get mental
    And drop a wicked track over a funky instrumental
    I rhyme for the mind then in time you will find
    The seven sign of death, and i am the seventh sign
    The crew is like a devil, but the devil is the crew
    It's not what you know, it's only what you proof
    Some ask me many questions and wonder my religion
    I'm losin my religion, that answer's your decision
    Blacks killin blacks, seems to be the new tray
    Thought shall not diss esham, that's a sin
    My favorite number 666, so guess again
    And if you feel the need to pray, say amen
    The drum is wicked, i think i heard him kick it
    This beat is like a pussy to me, so i'mma dick it
    I'm some like dr. jeckyl, but more like mr. hyde
    Some people heard my rap, now they commitin suicide
    Now tell me is that crazy, like rosemary's baby
    I don't give a fuck, so your death didn't phase me
    Some call me a psychotic, i'm more like a narcotic
    My poetry's a riot, and i'm down wit mill like product
    The answer's to your questions, might off to make ya vomit
    So therefore when you ask me, i'm supposed to say 'no comment'
    I'm feelin rather splendin, some people i've offended
    But you bought my record, it wasn't recommended
    I'm in the top ten, amen, esham the unholy, so here we go again
    No bloops, no bleeps, no blunders, no blurs
    My style is unisex, for his and hers
    Someone to ride my topics, unholy like i drop it
    For suckers like you, i keep my pistol in my pocket
    So please no disruptions, or rude interruptions
    There will be a penalty for bitin what i'm bustin
    So please understand, that i'm the fuckin man
    Some people hear my music and they think i should be banned

    [various talk and samples]

    [esham]
    One for the treble, two for the devil
    Three for your grave that i dug wit the shovel
    I'm runnin down the line and say a funky rhyme
    Some more wicket shit for the very last time
    I'm not the from old school and new school grade
    I dropped outta school, sixteen and got paid
    I'm glockin crazy dollars while ya fly girlie hollas
    I got much game, don't need no rope around my collar
    I treat a bitch like a ho, a ho like a freak
    Then i daze, in amaze, by the way i speak
    I'mma say what i wanna say in any fuckin kinda way
    Half you fuckas out there, don't even know the time or day

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