Paintbrush

Verse 1 [Cyrus Malachi]
I carve these bars I spit like a master artifice
Painting myriads of pictures sculpted like clay slabs for niggas
We sling bass to cats trapped between the pillars of extinction
Our existence predates creation's depiction of Michelangelo's drawing of God and Adam in the Sistine Chapel
Racist imagery which kept our mind shackled
My mind was revived inside the Holy tabernacle
My flow's like predynastic writing systems applied over rhythms
I'm like God knowledge nurtured and wrapped inside a turban
I'm like the book of the Great library of Alexandria before the Romans burned em
I'm like the Akasha records channeled through the cordless
In my dome is where they store it
I'm like Islamic Moors who brought the first compasses to the shores of Europe
On intercontinental tides
I bomb instrumentals with rhymes
Explaining our story like Egyptian allegory
My pen entrances like Zulu war dances
Opens your third eye to see beyond the burnt skies
Shootings and bloody crucifixes
The harlot and the useless kisses
Devoid of love like a poisoned dove
My paintbrush came to save us from Satan's clutch, Masonic clubs and Knight's Templars
Envision me laid up with a Nubian empress
Reading from scrolls Codex Adeptus
Verse 2 [Melanin 9]
My perception of an intimate hell can wake millions, estate civilians waving my cape painting images of hate scarred wave graveyards and sprayed cars Qasars in space large face laid when the gauge sparks
Light faces with burnt hands converted tan just the curse of man snatch purses and burst grams
Perverted glands serve with Sam turnin the curb swervin in the urban scam burnin in the furnace of a Persian land
It's like I see the image before us on a texture complex architects lectures, dark complexions
The path of a far dimension psalm ascensions a star connection camouflaged in the smart Vectra
Illustrations of paint smother my page I see brothers running from an undercover's rage
Slit wrist, my pen bleeds when the spliff's lit
Mosaic images of deities and hypocrites
Great scriptures of a sacred gift made intimate explaining the pain of a slave ship slayed immigrant
Verse 3 [Masikah]
Payroll Picasso painting phat flows
Depicting how straps clap foes for dough
With abstract brushstrokes see how the colours coded
Preferring shades of green
Abstaining from white and brown except when painting fiends
A drug dealer Da Vinci who captured the hustle
Picture black cats with cracks wrapped in they muzzle
Aint they like crabs in the struggle
Where violated see their life's liquid splashed in a puddle
No Mona Lisa, just an exhibition of baby mothers holding heaters
Picture Van Gogh rollin reefers
On the top floor smoking through a mesh window
Composing portraits of misguided girls who graduate from skets to whores
Exposing their tits
He painted flicks where girls suck dick on urinated lips
Shots lock em down and have them hold coke in their clit
Masikah paint this vividness like a lazy cartoonist
Harpoons spit decorative images of insanity
I paint a picture you just walk through the gallery
I paint a f-n picture you just walk through the gallery