Wednesday, December 12, 2012

"In God We Trust" – Meek Mill. Produced by Black Metaphor.

"In God We Trust" – Meek Mill. Produced by Black Metaphor.

See most of y'all sucka ass niggas wouldn't last a week in my hood if you was broke
And wouldn't last a day if you had money
I seen grown men cry, grown men die, for the love of that money
In God we trust!

[Verse 1]
My trigger finger itchin', palms itchin' too
We back-to-back in Ghosts, playin' peek-a-boo
We went to war with Sosa over a brick or two
So for a hundred ki's, think what my clique could do
I'm talkin' clappin' toasts, bullets'll hit your roof
They hit his body he went in shock, no Pikachu
Niggas ain’t bout it they talkin’ but really pick and choose
We on our second strike, we ain’t got shit to lose
All my niggas is felons, all you niggas is tellin’
Sold your soul to them people, they gon’ get you to sell it
They gon’ get you to move it, they gon’ get you a Buick
They gon’ get you a wire, like niggas gon’ use it
You gon’ tell on your brothas, what a lame homie
I got a bullet with your name on it, and a full clip I autographed
Kids cryin’ at the viewing, I guess it was upset

We done went to war with the realest, shot it out with the best
Talkin’ high-end guerillas, banana clips make a mess
I seen young niggas cry, I seen young niggas fold
I seen young niggas die because a young nigga told
For the love of the money, for the love of the money
For the love of the money, love of the money
Man, them young niggas hungry, for the love of the money
I seen real niggas cry, I seen real niggas hit
I seen real niggas die, cuz a real nigga snitch
In God we trust

[Verse 2]
Lotta niggas act Tony-like
Told them D's everything you heard but that’s your homie right
But he got killers lurkin’ outside at your home tonight
They gon’ hit the crib and kill the kids, oh that’s Kony right
Oh that’s Kony-like, everybody bleed
Cuz he come out in 2060, Christmas Eve
First time he went to prison he ain’t get to leave
Feds takin’ pictures, niggas is rats, you should say cheese
Once a local dude, shit the fire now
Never ever spit a rap but he got bars now
I’m talkin fed time, yard up, yard down
Baby mama can’t pay the bills, shit is hard now
How that make you feel, you should pay them bills
MA spittin in them trays when they make yo’ meal
Niggas shittin’ out them packs just to take them pills
And his baby mama brought em in, boy this shit is real
Niggas turn to Muslim, niggas turn to Christian
They gave him life, he try’n appeal it, got him on a mission
His homies ain’t learn, they still in the kitchen
They firin’ bullshit, that coka ain’t swimmin’
It’s coming up short, no food on the fork
Niggas is catchin’ cases, niggas is goin’ to court
He done slaved in the field, you the one on the porch
With the gun in your hand, try and run with the man


Hey look, I’ma tell you like this
If you in school nigga, stay in school
If you got a job nigga, stay at work
If you a family man, stay with your muhfuckin’ family nigga
Cuz this shit ain’t meant for everybody dawg
Everybody talk that shit, until they get caught up in some real shit
And then they start talkin’ that shit


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