, Is so we can pray at times like these, I think God is watchin' us from above. At the times that we're needin' love, I'm glad to say that my bad times
One hand in the air if you don't really care Two hands in the air if you don't really care It's like that sometimes, I mean ridiculous It's like that
player You would pick up the sound and repeat what you hear At that time, we noticed that you had a gift by god But you been through a hard time struggling
And most of these cats are like the middle of peaches I see you lookin' at but what you lookin' at You want a bomb, wanna twist me like a bottle cap [
my thang till I run my whole city Big time, big time, big time, big time I get to it, I hustle, I get it in, trying to win like Steve Wynn Money long like
yeah from hills high in heaven to psalms 27 this is our gospel (oh) take my words for it (oh) uh check..listen you see the music business is like the
surprise And at the same time, make you dry your eyes with the same rhyme So what you're seeing is a genius at work Which to me isn't work, so it's easy
tomorrow Keep it honest our motto, these niggaz keep it bottled I'm the writer who reach the fighters like speeches by Cus D'Amato DJs stickin to vinyl like
honest? - our motto, these niggas keep it bottled I?m the writer who reach the fighters like speeches by Cus D?Amato DJs stickin? to vinyl like ?fuck
Most of these cats are like the middle of peaches I see you looking at, but what you looking at? You in a bar, wanna
This what you call hardcore, fat gospel, street gospel (South, South, Bronx!) Yo where my people at? (South, South, Bronx!) Yo where my heart is at? (
Where hip-hop is at?" 'Cause they know they unoriginal, copycats Watch me bump this gospel rap, never wack In fact, I tell you where the tracks is at
This what you call hardcore, fat gospel street gospel South South, Bronx Yo where my people at? South South, Bronx Yo where my heart is at? South South
for a long time But don't act like you know me, this is the wrong time So grab ya microphone, set your auto tune and I'm a bust A verse on yo ass like
Poor Papi I wonder how he filled up in the autopsy (Ia??m glossy) looking like a fossil up in heaven singing gospel While Ia??m at home with these wearing
him the question. So I went in the room and I tried on all these clothes and I was like, I feel like an idiot. So I pulled out all these clothes and
of it to fit the situation The second part of it I left like it's been all of these years Because you can't improve upon perfection I'd like to dedicate
