Pray 4 Me

Black is what? Beautiful Brown is what? Merciful White is what? Delusional Be careful with the ones you know When times are ruff they blow yo phone Won't let you borrow I give loans Fuck that up I'll track yo phone Then throw fades pinche mamón I feel alone right now Not by myself somehow I don't do good in crowds I'm what the devil found From the brown side of town The type to think out loud I don't feel good right now Look at my bank account I don't got a weapon Are you gonna step in Step out You a fucken let down I can beat cho ass with my hands down Put yo fucken hand down Asking for a hand out I'm the fucken man now Wachu mean you can't tell You gone be that man down Gotta lotta muthufuckas wanna see me dead But I'm dead now All I gotta say is for the day is you better pray nothing was the same now Fuck around in my 22's when I look at you Cruising down the avenue like if it was new I'm the type to make it through, I got no excuse I got classics fuck the new, Putos this my neighborhood You know I can handle anything that you throw at me If you the type to go to church and pray then pray for me I don't need no body I feel like I'm rocky Don't you try to jock me Throw fades like it's hockey Momma doesn't want me Smoke is getting foggy Don't fuck with my hobby Yo bitch looking sloppy Yo songs always floppin They asking when I'm droppin They can't wait to cop it Promise, promise you won't top it Song writer Imma freedom fighter Mothers that can't see the light I'm dying right beside her Ghost writer Pray I never find ya I'm that jardinero up the Palm trees with a sniper I like her I really wanna pipe her I like it when she moans my name everytime I'm inside her The divider Call the homie spyder I just took this putos bitch, she knows I'm the provider You can call me a wet back But you better get back Don't you even get mad You the one that said that Fuck you and you left tat Fuck you and yo trump hat Where the fuck you get that You not even half black You don't get to say that Imma go and get my bat Cut Cho balls and make you fetch Cuz I'm freaky freaky freaky fresh Fuck around in my 22's when I look at you Cruising down the avenue like if it was new I'm the type to make it through, I got no excuse I got classics fuck the new, Putos this my neighborhood Ustedes tienen ojos y todavía no pueden ver También tienen oídos y no pueden entender Yo solamente quiero Mi alma y dinero Rastreando billetes porque yo soy jardinero Yo soy prisionero Me llaman el grosero Yo no soy el maestro Yo soy el mensajero En este mundo bien profundo ay dos tipos pa los chicos tienes huevos o tienes miedo Fuck it Asta luego