Song | Pray For Your Baby |
Artist | Soulja Slim |
Album | Give It 2 'Em Raw |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Master P, Soulja Slim ... | |
Check this out | |
When ain't nothin' else happenin' | |
And ain't no more money | |
The only nigga gon' be here for me, huh | |
Is the nigga that made me, my mama | |
Ya heard me? [Soulja Slim] | |
I thank the | |
Lord I got my mind right | |
My lifestyle was drastic | |
Tryin' to avoid the casket | |
Don't want my son to be a bastard | |
But y'all wouldn't know | |
But I seen that a couple of times | |
The Lord talked to me | |
Told me put the foolishness behind | |
It's not worth dying | |
Tryin' to represent where ya come from | |
Or makin' beef, because you feel like your that big | |
G I went the same way, but today, | |
I'm on a higher level | |
I'm on a paper chase and runnin' behind it like a rebel | |
I want it all | |
So me and my mama can ball | |
The only one that pushed me up, in my downfall | |
And my pop, been in pennitentaries 10 wasted years | |
My mama wasted tears | |
But she brought me up, by herself, without no help | |
Used to catch whippings with a leather belt | |
But that ain't stop nothin' | |
I was a Soulja always into stuff | |
Elementary school | |
I'm cuttin' | |
Gettin' caught wrote on the | |
B roll Mama, come sign me out | |
I don't like these phony people | |
Down here to come sign me out | |
Come bomb me out central lockup | |
I shoulda put the glock up | |
And the two quarters | |
I rocked up [Chorus: Master P] | |
Mom, I love you cause you made me | |
But pray for your baby cause this ghetto got me crazy [Trenitty] | |
I remember | |
Indo sticks and concrete bricks | |
Dope fiends fix, | |
Deathrow cliques | |
That pops them shits | |
Takin' hits | |
Had to make more grits | |
Than a homeless man, hungry man | |
Had to watch my mom twerk here body, for a ceilin' fan | |
Pops incarcerated so | |
I hated as a child | |
But as I grew, | |
I got to knew him so | |
I dug his style | |
Livin' foul, the law was: get it how you live | |
Friend or foe, never forgive, crack that niggaz rib | |
By any means ness, get your cake support your fam | |
Don't give a damn, robbin' neighbors for some ham | |
Even spam was a good dish | |
See we was poor, when we were sick, moms made us well with a kiss | |
I'm through, my most respect is due, so | |
I spits my gat | |
Cracks my back | |
Makin' sure she gets the lack | |
So well deservin' | |
Pervin' in some shit | |
I bought her | |
That's what she told us: remeber that blood is thicker than water [Chorus] |
zuo ci : Master P, Soulja Slim ... | |
Check this out | |
When ain' t nothin' else happenin' | |
And ain' t no more money | |
The only nigga gon' be here for me, huh | |
Is the nigga that made me, my mama | |
Ya heard me? Soulja Slim | |
I thank the | |
Lord I got my mind right | |
My lifestyle was drastic | |
Tryin' to avoid the casket | |
Don' t want my son to be a bastard | |
But y' all wouldn' t know | |
But I seen that a couple of times | |
The Lord talked to me | |
Told me put the foolishness behind | |
It' s not worth dying | |
Tryin' to represent where ya come from | |
Or makin' beef, because you feel like your that big | |
G I went the same way, but today, | |
I' m on a higher level | |
I' m on a paper chase and runnin' behind it like a rebel | |
I want it all | |
So me and my mama can ball | |
The only one that pushed me up, in my downfall | |
And my pop, been in pennitentaries 10 wasted years | |
My mama wasted tears | |
But she brought me up, by herself, without no help | |
Used to catch whippings with a leather belt | |
But that ain' t stop nothin' | |
I was a Soulja always into stuff | |
Elementary school | |
I' m cuttin' | |
Gettin' caught wrote on the | |
B roll Mama, come sign me out | |
I don' t like these phony people | |
Down here to come sign me out | |
Come bomb me out central lockup | |
I shoulda put the glock up | |
And the two quarters | |
I rocked up Chorus: Master P | |
Mom, I love you cause you made me | |
But pray for your baby cause this ghetto got me crazy Trenitty | |
I remember | |
Indo sticks and concrete bricks | |
Dope fiends fix, | |
Deathrow cliques | |
That pops them shits | |
Takin' hits | |
Had to make more grits | |
Than a homeless man, hungry man | |
Had to watch my mom twerk here body, for a ceilin' fan | |
Pops incarcerated so | |
I hated as a child | |
But as I grew, | |
I got to knew him so | |
I dug his style | |
Livin' foul, the law was: get it how you live | |
Friend or foe, never forgive, crack that niggaz rib | |
By any means ness, get your cake support your fam | |
Don' t give a damn, robbin' neighbors for some ham | |
Even spam was a good dish | |
See we was poor, when we were sick, moms made us well with a kiss | |
I' m through, my most respect is due, so | |
I spits my gat | |
Cracks my back | |
Makin' sure she gets the lack | |
So well deservin' | |
Pervin' in some shit | |
I bought her | |
That' s what she told us: remeber that blood is thicker than water Chorus |
zuò cí : Master P, Soulja Slim ... | |
Check this out | |
When ain' t nothin' else happenin' | |
And ain' t no more money | |
The only nigga gon' be here for me, huh | |
Is the nigga that made me, my mama | |
Ya heard me? Soulja Slim | |
I thank the | |
Lord I got my mind right | |
My lifestyle was drastic | |
Tryin' to avoid the casket | |
Don' t want my son to be a bastard | |
But y' all wouldn' t know | |
But I seen that a couple of times | |
The Lord talked to me | |
Told me put the foolishness behind | |
It' s not worth dying | |
Tryin' to represent where ya come from | |
Or makin' beef, because you feel like your that big | |
G I went the same way, but today, | |
I' m on a higher level | |
I' m on a paper chase and runnin' behind it like a rebel | |
I want it all | |
So me and my mama can ball | |
The only one that pushed me up, in my downfall | |
And my pop, been in pennitentaries 10 wasted years | |
My mama wasted tears | |
But she brought me up, by herself, without no help | |
Used to catch whippings with a leather belt | |
But that ain' t stop nothin' | |
I was a Soulja always into stuff | |
Elementary school | |
I' m cuttin' | |
Gettin' caught wrote on the | |
B roll Mama, come sign me out | |
I don' t like these phony people | |
Down here to come sign me out | |
Come bomb me out central lockup | |
I shoulda put the glock up | |
And the two quarters | |
I rocked up Chorus: Master P | |
Mom, I love you cause you made me | |
But pray for your baby cause this ghetto got me crazy Trenitty | |
I remember | |
Indo sticks and concrete bricks | |
Dope fiends fix, | |
Deathrow cliques | |
That pops them shits | |
Takin' hits | |
Had to make more grits | |
Than a homeless man, hungry man | |
Had to watch my mom twerk here body, for a ceilin' fan | |
Pops incarcerated so | |
I hated as a child | |
But as I grew, | |
I got to knew him so | |
I dug his style | |
Livin' foul, the law was: get it how you live | |
Friend or foe, never forgive, crack that niggaz rib | |
By any means ness, get your cake support your fam | |
Don' t give a damn, robbin' neighbors for some ham | |
Even spam was a good dish | |
See we was poor, when we were sick, moms made us well with a kiss | |
I' m through, my most respect is due, so | |
I spits my gat | |
Cracks my back | |
Makin' sure she gets the lack | |
So well deservin' | |
Pervin' in some shit | |
I bought her | |
That' s what she told us: remeber that blood is thicker than water Chorus |