Lyrics:
Now let me ask the truth or somethin -
should I slow down and be a good camper?
I heard a young thug scream,
"It depends what you got in
they can train us
But then America fucked up and blamed us
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word
In my letter to the President
After
and the place was swinging
To gospel music by nine
Group after group appeared on the stage
And Sally just sat there crying
She bit her nails, looking pretty
Gospel gangsta, when I'm walkin' in
You want the fake daps and fake hug music
When they hear the strip club music, they gon' get the instrumental
If I
gospel is Repent, which means 'let go of all that crap,' that's killin' ya. Life was supposed to be a pleasurable experience, not this torment, you know.
make we feel am make you no just they talk am
was deceived by these fancy talkers who took it by force
power corrupts especially when they spent a lot
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
when you surrounded by demons (Lord)
I watched so many people leave, I see them change by the season, that's mama's seasonin'
God got you, the devil's
through it, right
And, I'll never forget it I had like eight rhyme books--he'll tell you, he'll tell you man
I just, I went through them motherfuckers I
Nigga, you need to git up, git out and git something
Don't let the days of your life pass by
You need to git up, git out and git something
Don't
Rod
Motherfucker jacked me up, rollin' 'round bumping
'Cause music's too loud, you know what I'm sayin'?
Yo, this is P-O to the G-O
Motherfuckin'
the old man down,
He never doubted that the rumor was real.
But there the old man stood by the store front,
With his white cane hanging from his belt.
to confusion
What do you get the shit or quit I'm singing it
Bit by bit legit and hit critics are hating it
Critics can't stop me my music will always play
I got
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
I wish I could see you seeing me tonight
And it's a new kind of love when you get touched by his glove
And you get blinded by the flash photo
Nigga, you need to git up, git out and git something
Don't let the days of your life pass by
You need to git up, git out and git something
Don't
the metaphor
Let me write it down life's
More than spinning wheels
Christ bought the foul
You can pick that letter up
We're flawless and we think we're better
to the Armageddon, Lord
Know that I won't fly by that lesson
You taught me to pull out my Wesson you brought me
And I'm not stressing it softly
Get 'em up off me,
manifested
So understand we positive as could be
The vision is still intact, the show is fresh out of seats
Boy it's never going south 'less we down in
hell
Cause, my last request was
Let my homies smoke my ashes and catch a Violent J buzz
One more thing before you hit that switch
Please tell my
missin' me by inches
And they say how do you survive weighin' one-sixty-five
In a city where the skinny niggas die?
Tell Mama, don't cry
Even when
an let's have fun
Let's jump in the rides and cruise
Destination somplace a space
Anywhere we choose
Laughter food and good times'll never fail ya
To hell
Why nobody stand up for me when I'm down?
You back in jail and this time they say you stuck
Everybody laughin' at you like a clown
Why the only time
never appears
Crazy delusions of a big white man
Sittin on the throne, magic wand in his hand..
"You go to heaven! Dude, you go to hell
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