Bless His Soul
Lyrics
Ain't that DJ Chose over there?
Look like DJ Chose
(Hardbody)
Woadie got a body, he ain't tell nobody
He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul
Right hand on the bible, tell a lie straight to the judge
Just 'cause he ain't never fold, hope God bless his soul
Ain't gotta drop a bag, got niggas do that shit for free
Ain't gotta spend a big, got niggas do that shit for me
Got a house up in the 'burbs but my mom still in the streets
Know that we be active, that AC that I'm packin' is compact
Ask around my city, I work that ratchet
I'm livin' what they rappin', put it out like go-go-gadget
I put my savage on even though he active, get a bag and not a casket
I was taught to get it in my own way
I was slingin' nines up on that tollway
I've been traumatized, I can't let nobody close, babe
Snakes in disguise, told me lies with a bold face
I salute to the real one time
Hoppin' gates tryna duck one time
Kept it real, ain't think of switchin' one time
You hit a lick to feed your kids but that's fine
Woadie got a body, he ain't tell nobody
He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul
Right hand on the bible, tell a lie straight to the judge
Just 'cause he ain't never fold, hope God bless his soul
Ain't gotta drop a bag, got niggas do that shit for free
Ain't gotta spend a big, got niggas do that shit for me
Got a house up in the 'burbs but my mom still in the streets
Let off clips when we drill shit, clap his dome
With some old heads on field trips like chaperones
These niggas vaginal, my niggas animals
From the murder capital where catchin' bodies casual
Keep these angels guardin' me, saved us with a harmony
My daddy saw the star in me when stars seemed too far to reach
I'm perfectin' my artistry, grew up on the Carter 3
Shoot like we play for varsity, these slugs, they hit his artery
He can't be with gang, we revoked him of his membership
Out here writin' statements like he's workin' on his penmanship
Hellcats just for racin', fuck around and bought the dealership
Momma, look I made it and I still got all my killas here
Woadie got a body, he ain't tell nobody
He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul
Right hand on the bible, tell a lie straight to the judge
Just 'cause he ain't never fold, hope God bless his soul
Ain't gotta drop a bag, got niggas do that shit for free
Ain't gotta spend a big, got niggas do that shit for me
Got a house up in the 'burbs but my mom still in the streets
Yeah, I salute to the real one time
Hoppin' gates, tryna duck one time
Kept it real, ain't think of switchin' one time
You hit a lick to feed your kids but that's fine
Writer(s): Fredrick Givens, Taurus Bartlett, Jackie Plant, Norman Payne
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
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