Lyrics:
gone to bed he made a getaway down the stairs
For he longed to find the answer to a few of the maiden's prayers
Uncle Harry's not a missionary now
Poor
up hoe
See the vision
I'm a visionary
She talking pixilated
I'm a her Pictionary
I gave her 5 P's
cfter I hit missionary
Prior planning, prevents
poor, zeen?
Missionary
Not stationary
A true dat
It did scary
She say “You lef di third world an a go back
Dat no funny I soon give you two box!”
Fast
conversions
Down with conversions
She wants us to switch religions
She thinks we're all poor starving pigeons
Our five thousand year old wisdom
Against her two
I'm on top of the world
Missionary on a mission on top of the girl
Good karma I got but my names not Earl
Take these pearls
I'm on top of the world
to duck me.
You lost this money. It's time to pay up. Don't make me go see your cuntie over there at first missionary baptist on cinsworth. You know she
his neighborhood? nobody dared
But los got up out the coma got and was able to hear
A missionary shared the gospel to his open ears
He got saved got
that?
It's not a reason for mortal combat
We work with the poorest of the poor
We're just giving them a helping hand
We can always use a couple more
shall seek not celebrity
We spread the love in our vicinity
We just aspire to be
The Missionaries of Charity
And each one of us shall take four vows
important
When I was reporting that I was poor
But now I'm more than
It's still hooker heels on my sugar hills and sweet spots
Crying shames, make
out by previous wars, I work on
Graves of the poor
To clean up this mess left by the west
My duty to the African, tell my next of kin
In a song, but
to cut it down
Nobody seems to care
There's silver in his pocket, baby
And there's blood upon his hands
He put religion on a rocket
Missionaries in
and part the seas
So I know that's what you do
You make weak things strong
You give bones their flesh
Oh I believe you can use me
You make poor men rich
fences (all of 'em)
All critics, quick to call y'all wicked
But when it come to the poor, then it be all crickets
I'm at Chick-fil-A with a single gay
of missionaries there.
Albert : On a thousand acre farm.
Rosie: Very poor and very hungry
Albert: From a line of wealthy planters.
Rosie: What a awful life to bear.
fuck you, brain
A bit like Abel, fuck you, Cain
Dumb little fuck
If I'm fuckin' somethin' up, then fuck my name
Fuck the politicians
Fuck missionary
wanna sleep in a Porsche
Just wanna sleep, sleep
Just wanna sleep in a Porsche, yeah
What's fifty something to a rich nigga? To a poor nigga that's stacks
You would think I was a missionary sent from up above
To give you a visionary but sometimes my vision blurry
Cause I'm smoking on this Amsterdam
weight on your shoulders, bound to hold you down
In missionary, only time them niggas held you down
But I digress, man, you too clumsy in this bitch
Always
madder than ever
Said I can't believe you did that you know we're poor
Them tickets just dig us a little deeper
In the whole
He said, you never known
You and me and everyone, is a missionary
Throw your hands up in the name of Jesus
Thinkin' about the blessings rained on us, Thank you Jesus
Daily
pact, pact
You take my brother, brother, brother
I fight back, back, back, back
Everything is everything, a mantra says the guillotine
Missionary
me!
A peripheral, missionary, and ark commit-ness
Having intercourse with the nation of darkness!
Books with worms!
Jherri suited with last names like
me!
A peripheral, missionary, and ark commit-ness
Having intercourse with the nation of darkness!
Books with worms!
Jherri suited with last names like
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