Blood gurglin' at the back of his throat The smell of gunpowder suffocates his nose Echoes of screams clingin' to life But he will never leave Came back like it's prophecy Roberto Cavalli drenched in Burberry trenches Immaculate in Prada boots Tom Ford florals, double breasted suits Send a message to him, through his beloved auntie Left blood on her lace doilies It'll be weeks before they find her body And I'm lookin' like the goddess of beauty Gettin' fed white grapes by a shorty named Ruby I'm fingerin' her pussy as he kisses her on the neck She is our bird's nest, I ask for her by request The night gets wet Spontaneous shootouts Niggas bring out the heat in the chilly Buffalo streets Lying bodies all over the concrete This is what happens when Keisha Plum meets the Machine Smokin' weed by the pound, the devil's playground Burnt mahogany, truffle oils, Persian caviar The bullets left artwork in his skin Beautiful scars
God God Don't Make Mistakes God Don't Make Mistakes God Don't Make Mistakes God Don't Make Mistakes
Uh, zipper on stomach, that's mad stitches Young mother's crack addictions Young nigga's father never present, Dad was missin' Young kings pack the jail, pack the prison, come home, go back to prison Bad decisions, bad position, judges over-sentence, that's the system crack the system Dirty cops police stations, old cases, probation Parole boards with dirty lawyers, uh, yeah Public schools under paid teachers, missin' education Race discrimination, fuck a job application Trap house, twelve twelve, bags, plates & razors Not Jesus Christ, .45 is my savior Bells Palsy, bullet scars, foreign cars Celestial beings align with the stars, aw Look what I became I went from king to a GodTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
