[ VERSE 1 ]
  My .44 calicol will silence y'all souls, Masada
  The ghost of the most prolific writer
  Upon my death bed in roast in fire
  See my most desires
  Smell the smoke from my flesh as my ghost rise up
  Hear the voices of 100 choirs
  And angels looking down at my body attached to wires
  Priest kissed by the widow spider that spit saliva
  I write for lifers and boxers at Rikers
  I write pain
  Blue ink replaced the blood in my veins
  Thug in this game, flooded up rings
  Cluttered up change, quick to pop a slug in your brain
  If you a killer, then slugs we exchange
  We like the mobsters, bullet shells and choppers
  Cop cars and road blockers, they tryin to knock us
  Catch us duck behind the bitches, d's tryin to pop us
  On CBS News while the world watch us
  
  [ CHORUS ]
  I do this shit for my thugs
  I do this shit for the chicks at the club
  I do this shit for the niggas that I love
  I do this shit for the streets, cause a nigga gotta eat, luv (2x)
  
  [ VERSE 2 ]
  I write theories that's motion pictures, y'all hear me?
  I spit it clearly to roast y'all niggas, feel me?
  Gangster, life of a don my icon
  Sling on my right arm, rubber grip tight in my left arm
  Body suited with teflon, it's Brooknam
  Raise a eyebrow at the child, respectfully bow
  Pay hommage, gold studs in my garment
  Hot slugs miss me cause I'm God-sent
  If it hit me, it's God's wish
  No man taketh a life, I'm late in the night
  Catch me in the hood shakin the dice
  Contemplatin a heist
  Some say my team is Satan's alike
  Cartel, pop shells till our heart fails
  Brooknam, a.k.a. Roswell
  Clappin at the spaceship
  Bitches with fake tits
  At nightclubs
  We live the life of a true thug
  
  [ CHORUS ]
  
  [ VERSE 3 ]
  I feel a holy spirit comin on me
  My lifestyle: based on a true story
  Read the credits: name appears alphabetic
  On clear film with no edits
  Masada bleedin in the hands of medics
  Priest, I live it epic
  Spoke on records, majestic
  Physique: I stand six feet
  Observe my posture, my click's deep
  Director's edition, just listen
  The words breathe on my sheet, I write a novel
  Speak on behalf of every slain apostle
  My slang's hostile, say my name as gospel
  Masada, pop 2 through the confession booth
  Don't say nothin, pull my weapon and shoot
  Bullets wettin their suits
  Herut's lady put death in my shoes
  Cats die violent in war, silence the .4
  The fall slow motion, seen the silent applause
  
  [ CHORUS ]