Lyrics:
Now they wanna hear a country nigga rap
Five albums in, I swear a country nigga snap
Thought they wanted trap, thought they wanted bass
Thought
know my jams
Today my son said, "Dad, let go my hand"
Reminded me one day he's gonna be his own man
And my job is to make sure he's equipped
I gotta
the cloud of glory came
God proclaiming in its thunder
Jesus as the Son by name
Nations, cry aloud in wonder
Alleluia, alleluia
This is God's beloved Son
Law
Now they wanna hear a country nigga rap
Five albums in, I swear a country nigga snap
Thought they wanted trap, thought they wanted bass
Thought
album, Ice Cube, nigga kill at will
Had to balance, Double M is the imperial
Niggas pay respect, they mail it in an envelope
Fucking centerfolds like I
in Bedrock, surrounded by rubble
Just a youngin' in trouble
Took a shot and then made it a double
Took a shot and then made it a double
This that food
your son," girl, don't trip about it
Walk up in with apple sauce and broccoli
Little Bobby, better eat your greens, boy, don't give me lip about it
you a God, and shall your grace
Grow weary of your saints?
Steady is a knife held sure by faith
Are you a God? And shall your grace
Grow weary
is reconciled
By God's beloved Son.
The aching soul again made whole,
cnd priceless pardon won
O love of God, how rich and pure
How measureless
seater
Satin pillows a pimpstress in willow
Cookin my blow and heads low eye swellin
The son of the grain
I gotta split my wife's melon
So I can see
own,
His very own.
We're the people of God,
Called by His name,
Called from the dark
And delivered from shame.
One holy race, saints ev'ryone,
Because
And when I see you I'ma take what I want
So, you tried to front, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
You ain't real, hope ya (got yo'self a gun)
My, first album
[Verse 1]
My, first album had no famous guest appearances
The outcome: I'm crowned the best lyricist
Many years on this professional level
Why would
anymore
Old Saint Mary is telling me to slow down
Take a look and my wrist
cnd realize that my day is gone
Little by little by little
cnd I'll be sawdust
a fuck, say you could run that shit back
And fuck your loud pack, and fuck your Snapchat
Cherry Bomb, the greatest fuckin' album since the days of sound
Ev-ev-every day I see my dream
Every day I see my-every day I see my dream (I see my dream son!)
Everyday I see my dream
Every time I dive in my pool
It's hard
Unholy son of plague
Accursed undead from the void
Heretic saint of death
Demonic messiah of doom
Bringer of pestilence
Left hand of god
Damned
deep
We're two paychecks away from livin' out on the street
She's a workin' single mom
Like a saint she don't complain
She never says a word but
give my son the sun and the moon
Told my son stay out daddy closet
I got a chopper and it's new
Yea I got a chopper and it's not a toy
Told my boy stay
The saints' and angels' song
Could we with ink the ocean fill
And were the skies of parchment made
Were ev'ry stalk on earth a quill
And every man a scribe by
Iceland hoes
Head to London then to Paris, double sold out shows
Then I fell asleep in my Saint-Laurent and woke up to stunt more
And just recent nigga,
I believe in God the Father Almighty
Maker of heaven and earth
And in Jesus Christ his only Son our Lord, Who was conceived by the Holy Ghost
Born
And now coming down the aisle (uh)
Accompanied by no-motherfuckin'-body, it's young Bronny (it's me)
Yeah, steppin' to the plate like Barry with
slain last summer by a cocaine runner
A new year is dawning, new crews is forming
Rival gangs warring blood steadily pouring
The streets are deep Son
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