Lyrics:
saved by John the Pope
The M, A, see and K, from Oakland, California
I'm Too $hort baby, no I don't play, I'm macking
Freak nasty, I like your dance
concern
Then Jesus said to him a second time
Simon, son of John, do you love me?
Peter looked down and closed his eyes and
Said more firmly
Lord, you know
a ho all on your grill if he ratting
For talking when you not in
The game like John Madden
Bye bye ass, drive by past you
See you with my ho, I just ride
Used to tote that Calico and serve like John McEnroe
Now I sell out all my shows
Used to sell out all my blow
That was back when we was coppin' dubs
SHE'S ALWAYS TALKING WITH ANGELS
Word & Music by John Ford Coley, Eddie Cunningham & Dennis Knutson
She hears that voice inside her
I never hear
wanna ride
I'm gon' need somebody by my side
I decided this is do or die
And I'm alive
If it wasn't for John, we couldn't do any of this
Now we got
never made you suspicious
Latched on to light
That's known to hype apparent you coherent knowing I rapped wrong to right
Love and positivity instilled in
the street jumped off
The car in 9-0 I was wearing all white capisque had my 501's, five dunkie rolls
Couldn't be saved by john the pope the m-a-c and k from
that cake
Start up front or bottom, no trade
All in like I'm playing poker
Love green like a man with choker
Got bars, I ain't talking jail
I'm a god,
Tryna get my capital up
Make me up some money
I be writing letters to myself
Cause I'm somebody
Self love
Feeling like I don't need anybody
Knew that
stay away from around the way
Me and my girl went to the movies
Madly in love, we got shot by Cupid
We both had fat jewels on
So I brought my joint in
a Goyard
John Deere, how we pulling up on yo yard
I like to brag on my bitch, like she so smart
Good brain, she don't do no talking, she a choke artist
Told
words are found
Let it be known that God's penmanship has been signed
With a language called love
That's why my breath is felt by the death
And while
at the door knocking do do do
I'm just a player surrounded by goons
Street sweeper on me ain't talking bout brooms
Shawty forfeited just said she was through
You just wanna stunt, but baby I ain't like you.
When that money talking ain't no telling what you might do.
Benjie's hit the tables would you let
Vern? It's like funny
I mack legit and make all the money
See my capital T on my diamond ring
We hook up the beat and love to swing
So while you're
mack her down without talking you know that I'm rizzen
Taking these chances of change
On broken bridges of love an then pain
You showing fake love not
THE OLD TRAIL
WRITERS CHARLES JOHN QUARTO, STEVE GILLETTE
There's a new ridge road that cuts the mountain to the bone. Slices through the woods
bad for my health
But myself, I stay fuckin' with y'all
Making hit's like my name was John Gotti
Like I got thugs and hired
Goons waiting in the lobby
Had to get my groove back Stella
Talking kicks in the pool MarGielaa
Got trees by the stumps no let up
Under water kinda hard
To keep ya ahead up
Baby, I know that we've got trouble in the fields
When the bankers swarm like locusts they're turning away our yields
Our dreams roll by our silo,
har body heat
Create ah friction in-between
Keep on talking to mi gal
Mi love fi hear yuh say go deep
Yuh affi feel my passion daily
Yuh love just might
sh*t
I be chill, kill- like John wick
N*gga be smooth when i move with the stick
Most y'all love just to sleep on the kid
20-points in garden, ball
Vern? It's like funny
I mack legit and make all the money
See my capital T on my diamond ring
We hook up the beat and love to swing
So while you're
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