Good Lord

[sample] Boy, we've got to face it, let's talk it out today We've got to get that feeling back, lift all these sins away [Intro: IMF Blue Steele] The fuck out here, I praise my own to God, he gon' let me eat [IMF Blue Steele] Through my, days and nights, I pray and write For that, one of those prayers might save my life Or, change my life, I came to write I could see my name in lights, big chains with ice I'm thinking futuristic for when I come out Don't blink cuz you might miss it, son, when I come out Cuz I'ma fuck shit up so drastic that the public masses Gon' be like (What the fuck was that shit?) And this nigga crazy with it cuz he done babysitted A pen and paper, that'd give him the vapors Matter of fact, son, that'd give him them papers Contract signatures, Cognac, sip it up Negociating in a all black tinted truck Yeah, I slow grind it, but son I picked it up And they made mine, no more WIC for us Look what the most high God done did for us Front lawn, back yard, a crib for us A nice big garage and a car that's just for us So I gotta thank my God for this, cuz uh... I could be locked down behind bars or stiff as fuck And you know I keep my hammer on my waist Slugs fly around a nigga, I need a camera in my face Units being sold, beautiful as gold And try to a get a plaque quick, a liar for this rap shit [Chorus: IMF Blue Steele] Thanks to to the good Lord, I made it through the hood wars Now I'm trying to book tours, nigga (cuz I seen did it all) After this rap shit, I'm not going back with this Sleeping on a pissy-ass mattress (cuz I done did it all) Thanks to this mic check, a nigga get the right cheques No longer gotta worry what the price is (cuz I'ma get it all) Now, I shall slide through life And paint pictures for ya eye through mics (and y'all I could hear it all) [IMF Blue Steele] I survived lots of fights on lots of nights Now my wrist all chipped with rocks, aight? Ya like? And this is just a pitstop Y'all trying to get props, not me, I'ma get rich, watch Spend another hundred thou' on a wrist watch Niggas like, "Son is running wild in that 6 drop" Yeah, but I'm still awesome with the tongue Keep the larcen on me, son With that grip shirt, I'm looking like a Martian with a gun Parking in the slums, hopping out, niggas blunts roll, offer Remy some Son, will ya get that? Matter of fact, what is that? That nigga said, "A little blueberry mixed with Kit Kat" Y'all niggas just rap, I'm trying to Sinatra on them songs Y'all niggas rocking on them wrong Matter of fact, I'm Sammy Davis on the beats So all that gat rap ya talk, make her save it for the streets Cuz... [Chorus] [IMF Blue Steele] When I mic check, I make niggas write cheques I'm trying to live life, yes, bitch with nice breasts Little nice sectionary project groupies Give me a budget to direct movies Just a can't lose these, tie up to the street If I die, I'ma still be alive on these beats God forbid, so I jar with the niz These niggas is gon' not take this father from his kids It's hard when you live in the slums with ya babies That's why y'all niggas be trying to run from ya babies I ain't going nowhere, I'ma show my seeds How you could go from nothing to 4 to 5 E's I'm looking for 6 daughters and 4 David's Business lawyers on my caller I.D.'s Coffee in the morning, sugar in the bowl I'm flossy when I'm yawning, there's bullets in my boats [Chorus] [Outro: IMF Blue Steele] Shit, nigga, shit, nigga, shit nigga, come on...