Blessed(Sam Spade)
Written by: Marlowe, Michael Turner & Christopher Portugal
[Sam Spade:]
Everybody's blessed physically, as well as mentally
The mental was the utensil for the brain, see motional activity
Spiritually controlling me on the essence to rise
My brown eyes can seek a fine ache, it's advised to save your life
The devil tries to tempt by keeping your soul with lives to control
Savaged my cabbage, due to the cage, we funking some more
Projecting my thoughts to be on point like it was a cactus
Maintaining shit would've been my spiritual rim
It doesn't form madness (Stroked my cabbage)
And I felt the stun just by being punished
The infliction of a better side of life
Said I could accomplish anything I want
But it wasn't afford to head from my neck to hold
It was more like a standard the ones that
Got reached before we get home
Never gray-haired and never being misled by the two-horned head
Conflicted collision, open turned I plucking my vision
In the degree of my naked eye, I spy to the atmosphere
Description of a double-O-7 reverend preaching up like a phony gear
And after the sermon, I'm yearning for the brain cells to be burning
Won't control a substance of hip, rolled up with the blunt
That you can't handle, stability even below doses I quote this
Punctuate the beginning, my focus, that's lyrical dopeness
Tablet unwrapped, plus intoxicated minds sporadic
Biters like to show static, become the weak fanatic in my attic
Thoughts called about confusion, once the inclusion
I must have print like I was in a log case, bleeding, guilty
Losing the battle, between me and the Queen
She was a supreme, varying toast of my dream, of black complexion
Of morning jumped kingdom, you really be down on earth
As a neck, feeling emotions like counting plannings at seven
With the fortunate unit referred to as sucka he couldn't touch me
To the man that pretend he professes to exterm
In my flow hand is some Hennessey, even both into the Depression
Writers block his temple with my profession
When the collect shum show a session
Three strikes already connected like they come moving and feeling
They can imagine your supreme into drummer and they avoid it
Still, projecting my thoughts to be on point like it was a cactus
Maintaining shit would've been my spiritual rim
It doesn't form madness
Yo, yo, check it out: everybody's blessed physically, as well as mentally
The mental was the utensil for the brain, see motional activity
Spiritually controlling me on the essence to rise
My brown eyes can seek a fine ache, it's advised to save your life
The devil tries to tempt by keeping your soul with lives to control
Savaged my cabbage, due to the cage, we funking some more
Projecting my thoughts to be on point like it was a cactus
Maintaining shit would've been my spiritual rim
It doesn't form madness
My designated average, yo, on the Saturday, Latter-Day Saints
Some pat is my pliance, some llama empire, religion's liar
Ain't got the desired time for clocking the rhyme, y'all want to be talking
Just through the beats in, turned up my Walkman and kept walking
'Til I entered the down low, black, low, and to the petite store
And so I residence so I represent my president's getting spent
By helping the next man pay his rent, maintain the lie
So I decorated the printed air press, covered my homie before
That's spinning the tracks, ears irritated for the wax
Trained, it was straining, went straight to the limo
Just claiming MCs lieutenant
With the splendid, bended for the mic so let's straight to the cent
Circle the game open wouldn't have fret my image
If it end up the scrimmage for the gimmick game
Compared to the hostiles, weak alum train
Without any confusion to add the contusion to my brain
Stepped out of the frame, shorty steps up, displays the name
It should have been illustrated for achieving in the Hall of Fame
'Cause it was average, but the way that she carried it was extravagant
Lacking in moderation, extremely becoming he's average
So it wasn't a problem at first, I seem for the rather that worst
But you know what happens when no active is just burst
We used to never share the root of the problem
Calculate the brain with meant matters that have all been solved
With the depression dissolves the compassion, lost the battle
Seems like victory wasn't meant to be
Hunted together with wisdom, you got a fraction unintentionally
Mainly, my prediction was, of course, off battling resource
Decked in the beer, more rights? Naw, just bless the power and force!
Everybody's blessed physically, as well as mentally
The mental was the utensil for the brain, see motional activity
Spiritually controlling me on the essence to rise
My brown eyes can seek a fine ache, it's advised to save your life
The devil tries to tempt by keeping your soul with lives to control
Savaged my cabbage, due to the cage, we funking some more
Projecting my thoughts to be on point like it was a cactus
Maintaining shit would've been my spiritual rim
It doesn't form madness
Spiritually mad!
*Important Note: These transcriptions are not verified with P.U.T.S., so there may be errors. We are especially unsure of the greyed-out text. We encourage you to offer your suggestions for lyrics corrections on the site's main page.
Trivia:
- None yet.
This track appears on the following releases:
- American Men, Vol. 1: Unreleased PUTS (2000) (CD) - PUTS Records (PUTS 6004)
