Gospel ft. Da Goat & Hurricane Blaine Lyrics

Feelin' like Bun B, throwed in the game

Lil' sweat, tear n pain

150% y'all flow lame

Killin' E-Bali's fame

The baddest things since cocaine

Pourin' out the soul out the frame

You just tell the world I got game

Keep your mouth closed, you my last in the game

Show love forever maintained

Free my nigga pain

Fuck the world just like Pac

Y'all like cattle, act like jock

Residue still in the pot

Yoga homotized on the drop

Roll a Tick-Tock while it's stock

I send your clip in the Glock

Hustle every day, non-stop

Buck bust your head off top

Two at the A's for your spot

Two at the A go cop

I'm casting on the block

Cause I came in the back with the Glock

Still got the streets on lock

Bitch, I retired on the block

Bust every bullet in the Glock

Serve everything on the spot

The hustlers don't stop

Load up another clip They shootin' crazy

Better hit the deck by the time I stop blazing

Fuck that

Don't worry about no women, these bitches, they do not love me

Fellas hollow tip, spittin' they hit em, he do the Dougie

I'm not a man of God, no witness, you cannot judge me

I'd rather be carried, then lowered, the world above me

Pushin' up daisies if you fuck, boys try to play me young

Twisted as a kid, one boot camp short of crazy

Thrown across the board, get boarded, do not faze me

Stand tall, get it all in all

That's how he raised me

And neighbors heard the pop, heart stop, his face leakin'

Just a penny for your thoughts, head shot, he Abe Lincoln

And thinkin' he on top, quicksands, got him sinkin'

Blowed his brains out, show the crowd what he thinkin'

Serenade, ain't see me comin', this shit was very late

Two Glock twins and the host of Ashley and Mary Kay

Take the full house from these 32, I ain't here to play

Gone for a minute, but best believe, bitch, I'm here today

Feel the hate, 17 motherfuckin' years of dates

Started out when I was wearin' pull-ups, wiped my tears away

Hopin' down the interstate, just tryin' to make a bigger plate

Hoppin' G's to G with G, go check my name, hope plenty wait

Will do, hope the bitch can cook, I need a bigger plate

Filet mignon, tenderloin, baked potatoes, sizzlin' steak

Mind on my money, as I watch the princes drift away

Shapes done shifted, tables turned, and I shift the shapes