Lyrics:
without seeing
We will see when we rise come on
I got the armor of God homie
The armor of God
The armor of God
I got the armor of God
I've got the armor
Tryna be a captain save-a-hoe, oh? Fasho, homie
Wine and dine her while I lay low, and get my money
And when she's sick of bein' chased, she'll be back
hostile
Ill-Disposed Gospel, People ask why I'm so hostile
Ill-Disposed Gospel, People ask why I'm so hostile
Y'all refute it, but this real music ****, I
How the fuck did America get in this position?
All this division, and not to mention racial tension
What the fuck am I supposed to do?
Pick between
for the Bloods
The whites for the cops, and the stars come from the clubs
Or the slugs that ignites, through the night, by the dawn
Early light,
rappin' gospel till I'm murdered twice
Working on me daily
Tryna play me like a fool
Hitting up my weakness like
Your blood ain't washed me new
Tryna make
young men ceased from their music
for the kitchen our women they missing
see them for the streets loose chicks now chickens
our kids now cultists
We living in Hotel America
Which produced the Wall Street bull replica
Opportunities I see em through my retina
Finna get one and upgrade my
Black in America means having nothing of your own. Our style of dressing, our hair, our music, our lingo. And when we express wanting something uniquely
the
Tests by yourself when Yeshua is the manager
A Holy flatterer every issue answer-er
See this life is passing bring the truth unto the cancerous
Christ
Blackness is my religion, to that I'm dedicated (welcome to America)
I follow the laws of nature, by which I'm regulated
The universe, my university, I
however
One environment remained as harsh as
Ever the black ghettos of
Inner-city America and out of such a
Crucible a new fearless type
Came forward,
Dealing with snakes how could I blame Eve
Like it's about to be my time, wouldn't you leave
I believe in my music like gospel
Finding salvation
Go hard or go home
Lord use me up
Lord kill me if I don't preach the gospel
I'm still in my 20's- but I'll die if I got to
Already dead- so
the way to write a song
It's when you get to microphones the music can go wrong
You can't see the audience with spotlights in your eyes
Your feet
bombers and prosperity gospels, emaciated models
With cocaine and blood pouring out their nostrils, they got to
Just to stay awake on the catwalk of life
America Is Brutal And Meek Mill Is A Hero
Cover Story: Meek Mill is one of
Our generation's greatest street rappers
But can he thrive in
I got that bread
And if you fuck with zone, we gonna put your ass to bed
We'll see you at sections, at regions, at natty's
When we beat you there, we
uh
Man see I remember when I was like fifteen years old and my dad took me to the studio--
I know this is random I'm just trying to take you guys
bombers and prosperity gospels
Emaciated models
With cocaine and blood pouring
Out their nostrils, they got to
Just to stay awake on the catwalk
Of life
morning, life is fine
Always hoped that I'd be an apostle
Knew that I would make it if I tried
Then when we retire, we can write the gospels
So they'll
morning, life is fine
Always hoped that I'd be an apostle
Knew that I would make it if I tried
Then when we retire, we can write the gospels
So they'll
with
My skin matches the hero, likeness, the image
America feels safe with my music in their systems
And it's suited me perfect, the role, I
morning, life is fine.
Always hoped that I'd be an apostle.
Knew that I would make it if I tried.
Then when we retire, we can write the Gospels,
So
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