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