Lyrics:
troubles down
Right at the feet of Jesus
Lay your troubles down
Chorus:
Come to the table (mmmmmmm)
Come to the table
More like Jesus written by Canaan
taken just by going outside
(James Lee Alexander, Pamela Turner, Sean Bell, Bobby Russ, Torrey Robinson)
You know we can not run away no there's nowhere
this hustle
Can't stop this hustle
And this is how its gonna be
Every single day
Even if it means trouble
It ain't no good
It ain't no good
It ain't no
ain't no stopping us now, my nigga
[Freck Billionaire]
Ya clip trip, clip spit
Get your strip wet
I got the rubber grip Smith and my rich sweats
Allah just, I lay it for the mix tapes
Quick to quake a label-mate
The sound came outta rusted crate
Surrounded by cobwebs
Beat smooth enough
trouble
Just spend three grand, we want no trouble
Four more bottles, we want no trouble
Don't mean we're scared of nobody
Life's just too short for
we still keep fighting this war
Hands up don't shoot us no more
Bound by these shackles we gotta get free
By any means necessary
They say we're
. No we must see him.
Mandy: Go and praise someone else's brat, go on.
Wise Man 2: We were led by a star.
Mandy: Led by a bottle, more
Would he still get embraced?
Or would you find the applauding
Would quickly turn to appalling
You got no career by the next morning
I ain’t saying you
a Smith and Wesson
Get to blessin'
When I show up nigga it's some heavy wreckin'
He don't want no smoke with me
That nigga he get poked from me
That's
brought
Them through the Alps
Catching the enemy completely by
Surprise and defeating
Them there are no Alps and
No obstacles that can stand in the
Way
ain't no stopping us now, my nigga
[Freck Billionaire]
Ya clip trip, clip spit
Get your strip wet
I got the rubber grip Smith and my rich sweats
Aye can I get some more
Maybe 'bout a fourth
Always got in trouble so I ended up in court
Hiding in the bushes
In the dark we lurk
Don't let me catch
by the red moon, I'm riding away from the death
No stop it more I'm fighting my way out of troubles
Leading by the red moon, I'm riding away from
And thus: Joseph laid with the frog, and his AIDS was no more!
Ohhhhh!
You're making things up again, Arnold
You're recklessly warping the words
the weed up in the duffle
Need the money by the bundle
Woah trouble
Twenty niggas in the shuttle
When you see us know it's trouble
Bouncing right back like
remember mama holding me in her arms
Brother by the hand
On the blue line
Chicago public transportation
In route to Smith Woods
Her long time occupation
Mama
group
Picture this let it rip eight by ten clips
Build up three more spliffs
Since a jit I been legit
The shades just caught up with the shits
I shoot my
you're triggered by my fame
You played me like I played drums
You stabbed me when I faced front
I thought that we would last long
Film trick no be real
take ten paces, draw my shit, and aim at niggaz faces
Leavin no traces so a nigga's BEATIN body cases
I'm wettin shit up, you get hit up, by the super
Don't come around here no more, bringing me all of your bad rain
Can't you see I've got troubles of my own
I ain't got time to be messing with all
Don't come around here no more,
Bringing me all of your bad rain.
Can't you see I've got troubles of my own.
I ain't got time to be messing
pain
I can get you John Doe by a no name
Catch him at the Chinese store
Pulled two sticks on him, we eatin' Lo Mein
Nah nigga, Smack can't hear
(hair)
Happy holidays
Let me come here and talk to you
I gotta stop sayin' I'm not doin' this shit no more knowin' I'm cappin'
(Great John on the beat by
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