Chief Kamachi - Love 4 the Craft lyrics

Each word I spit sparklin' glow
Kamachi street shaman, remarkable flow
Rebellious, rowdy saints put a part in ya fro
Blood on the turntables
AK assaultin' the show
I'm from the 70's, gang war heavenly blow
The same block old pops sell beverely snow
Krush Groove in my heart, the culture I know
I'm the same A capella whereva I go
I'm underground my sounds in
The ghettos overseas
Love a Rakim voice, Brand Nubians steez
Bring that 90's rap back
Who want it wit these?
The thriller, straight from Philla
Ali of emcees
JuJu Mob, scatter magic dust in the breeze
Catch the vapors
Instantaenous death if you breathe
Broad Street the bodies in
Back roads in Belize they want the prize
One look at my eyes then they freeze

I got 'Love 4 the Craft' for
My spirit to be reputed
It's a reason why I do this
And why I persue this
I got 'Love 4 the Craft' and
If you don't true this
That's how we seperate the
Real from intruders

Yo it's Chief Kamachi
One of the wildest ock's
I go to vote leave a bomb in the ballot box
When I'm dead they think
That the terror stops
But each word is like a
Seed from the rarest crops
Minds blossom and grow when you hear it rock
Bless you like the father you
Submit to in prayer granddaddy of that half
Street spiritual sphere
I know I'm nothin' like the way
You had envisioned me there
When my light shine come thru
Like the beautiful air
When I write rhymes nothin' you
Can do to compare take it back like my Queen
Puttin' braids in my hair
On the motherland brother man this is
The jam of the year
I'm on the throne holmes you tryna
Put ya hands on the chair
I got the fire to lead and a murderous glare
Give the world what they need before
My grave site is clear
And I ascend to Angels wit
My family that care

Kamach Bolivian rock in the
Booth wit the wake i spit the block
All I know is the stoupe and the crate
I got seven questions for God -
Seven spooks at the gate
While seven kids can't even put
Their tooth in the cake
Mommy sacrifice for that little bit
Of loot that she scraped
Left the world before she heard my
First group on the tape
The pain is in the music I make
So ruthless and great
Black roses around the evil of state
Candles burn in the windows what
I reveal at the gates
It's the ghost of old Kunta
Death drum on the waist
Warrior paint on my face, spears thru ya ears
I don't know if you can
Hear dirt cover ya face
Trumpets blow, Undertakers dumpin' slow
Hell's crowded but Heaven got
Extra bunks I know
It's deadly, OD on the medley
Pump the flow, make the whole
US drug consumption grow, yo