[Lyric] ERUPTED MINDS PT.1. (Gregory Mfeka)

ERUPTED MINDS PT.1

Verse

A west side nigga from Newlands yes/
Riverdene for exact explanation, need an address/
Giving her thee address to come over and get undressed, till she naked, shy and she vigorous, bout to give up this dick/

But fuck talking bout stories of me and losing my purity/
I bet that half the industry still be eating a pack of these/
A nigga on a boat and surrounded by all this mist/
And then I thought ghostwriters composing all your shit/

Time to stay on my lane and just pace myself for I make it/
Sacramental I am, you pray to me for some favors/
Lurеd towards the blue pill hoping happiness savеs us/
Took the red and I downed it with alcohol for redemption/

Spitting heat that could rattle an atheist, screaming God/
Escort the female rappers out the industry and break the fucking industry, that wrecking ball and Miley Cyrus vibe/
My mama raised me well, place no hand upon a thot/
I'm glad you see the crown fits, you dead and now it's mine/
Bitch go ahead and tell the head of the industry that I shot/
I'm like Tupac, you see Gregory call the cops and the ops/
When I'm done I call nine double one for this massacre/

I mastered the art of cutting the hate out my circle and now it's semi/
Master shredder I am, put barbers out of their hair jobs/
I kill you verbally dead now you on the streets scouting meat/
But do what they did to moms, I felt the pain on her left eye/

Now are you man or are you bitch nigga/
Are you well prepared to be the face of the city you rep nigga/
False prophesy prophesied, hoping that we'd be shook/
A reenactment of nine eleven, when I'm on the mic nigga/

I started this shit in ninth grade/
An adolescent in school clothes, rapping in basics/
Them punchline cypher sessions/
They were starters for me/
The shit I'm spitting now be the venom parker can't beat/

And now I'm on the road to reality of this music/
A passion that I savor and relish, my faith into it/
And I done put the time in it nigga/
Still gon' flourish my nigga/ Still gon' good will hunt these rappers up in here/
Still gon' master the art of me pacing my moves/
Me at the back of the pack like I am irrelevant/
Trivial or a improvident, till I make it and run with it/
Lead the pack then I leave the pack with the chips and some other shit/

But enough about little tales that I tattle/
You want me spitting the hardest that they can't handle/
Like hot potato, my chips are burning the table/
The only way you gon' learn is when Gregory pulls the cable/

I'm able to abrogate or to decimate in this game/
Out the way, if you break my wave, you get laced with lines I state/
Emanate with a lot mines that are mine and blow up your spine/
So you sit and scream out your mind while I take the crown and rotate/
One eight zero degrees to face all the broken dreams, battered faces/
With grace I orate the truth and with proof you will see me gain/
All my riches and all my winnings, I know that the lord shower/
The power we all obtain has no pinnacle, fuck the a space/

This is your tribulation, wretchedness desolation/
Getting laced by these beats but I'm never trippin', I'm steady/
My gloves on, Ali with the jabs leave you to spaz/
Disarrayed by the fact that these words got energy/

I feel like the big show, then selling out big shows/
My dreams are mammoth size, I'm taking the city too/
Durban where I reside, energy too alive/
Penalty if you cut my goals short with a knife/
Take my time with this shit, Langston Hughes in this bitch/
Write my views on the sand with a stick in hope that it sticks/
Long enough for the next generation to see my shit/
Witness all of my moves like I'm Alvin Ailey and shit/