little nigga Wit mine fuck dem niggas it's on All y'all fall Bizzy gettin' bitches test me bless the floor In any attempt to arrest me stress me Lord
little nigga wit mine f**k dem niggas it's on All y'all fall Bizzy gettin bitches test me bless the floor In any attempt to arrest me stress me lord
, I pray for the faith, Lord We pray for your love, Lord We pray for the lost, Lord We pray for this world, Lord We pray for the strength, Lord We pray
city's in ruins Now with these hands I pray lord With these hands For the strength lord With these hands For the faith lord With these hands I pray lord
an organization that know black history But ask them how they plan To make money and it's a mystery Lookin' for the remedy But you can't see what's hurtin
in a dream? When an angel closed my eyes and I saw) [Daddy Rose] Holy scriptures, the state's prosecutors study Leonardo's pictures All fraud from
it's I would rather die before I can't prosper I'm a mobsta Won't stop ballin', because it's meant to be, It's victory or death I gotta hustle till
, no, no, no, no Of course not It's not all in vain It's not all in vain It's not all in vain It's not all in vain It's not all in vain 'Cause up the
to the streets and the thugsta down on the St. Clair Hit up ya S C T, when I'm hangin', swangin' with the G's Give each other peace, pass around my fifth
21, kept the shakers and gun Blow in ya face, stab you below ya waist The type to chase death, like faces of death Sippin' the Henny, pray, let the Lord
deed was done Stained glass windows, Jesus looking down Organs playing music to the middle aged crowd His wife's in the ground, the devil's in his head
and no one's suffered quite like you Christ is king (deny him) Jesus is lord (deny him) servant or slave the balance always works out the same pray for
upon my brain What you make will remain, and that's life CHORUS [Jully Black] Life's so sweet You gotta thank the Lord for life You gotta thank the Lord
front of the altar It's covered with flowers I pray to Lord Jesus And confess my sins I hear a scornful laughin' Voices sound through the silence The organ
You wack MC's catch a hook to the head Cause y'all don't know about the tibetan book of the dead You don't know about anything that's important About
start to panic Brains get hijacked like planes and crashlandin Bitch niggaz pray to the Lord; the black box that was supposed to record the pilot's voice
stay ferocious, but lay the lowest, blaze a forest, and they adore us, My brain's in orbit, Great performance, and pray the lord-es, I'm playin' organs
that's on fiiya You sittin in the church wit Reverend Charlie Murphy and I'ma bring it to ya wit brother F-A-B-O-L-O-U-S Fabolous [Fab:] Preach, Brother
