Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song The Lord is Testin' Me , by - C-Murder. Song from the album Oldies but Goodies, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопThe Lord is Testin' Me |
| I think the lord is testin' me |
| Whatzup y’all, hello world, this C-Murder |
| I’m bout to put you in the mind of a crazy |
| Fucked up in the head muthafucka (this nigga sick) |
| You know what I’m sayin? |
| One of the muthafuckas you see in the |
| News everyday, for doin' all types of crazy shit |
| Chorus: Master P |
| Sometimes, I think the lord is testin me |
| But I’m a TRU nigga |
| I can’t let none of these niggas |
| And bitches get the best of me |
| Muthafuckas just don’t understand the shit that I be goin' through |
| I wanna kill myself, but I know, I gots to stay TRU |
| Be gettin' my fuckin' hustle on, and stack my fuckin' dividends |
| Cuz if I ain’t got no money and I’m broke, fuck friends |
| I feel like, I’m paralyzed cuz my own baby, won’t hug me |
| My momma, won’t let me in the house cuz she talkin' bout |
| She scared of me |
| The only reason I sell drugs is survive |
| The only reason I kill, is to stay alive |
| I’m constantly watchin' my back cuz playa haters act like hoes |
| But they don’t wanna fuck with me cuz i turn bustas into John Does |
| I’m not a role model so keep your kids up out my face |
| Talkin' bout, I’m sellin' drugs ain’t doin' nothin |
| But killin', my own race |
| Police can’t catch me, betta kill me, ain’t gon' let 'em arrest me |
| They don’t, understand I draw my nine faster than Jesse |
| I’ve been know to have a temper, and I click quick, like this |
| Befo' I was crazy, but now I’m strapped and I’m sick |
| 187 killin' murder’s a hobby |
| Thank God, this be the charge, six counts armed robbery |
| Back in the free world same shit, (ain't gon' change) |
| Call V, say he got weed, but fuck, I need clothes man |
| Damn, shoud I get that ski mask G? |
| Should I rob him, try to get a job? |
| Damn, the man’s testin' me |
| I keep visualizin' jail cells, and closed caskets |
| Put a credit to the grave he blastin |
| Fill my coffin laughin', chewin tobaco |
| I’m just a gangsta livin' day to day, tryna survive |
| Try to stay high to realize why my homies out there die |
| Now why you keep on testin' me, sendin' these cops to arrest me |
| Put me in bad situations, but I won’t let life, get the best of me |
| I was born in a fucked situation, but I’m not a born killa |
| But I’ve seen some shit in my time, that escaped a grown nigga |
| Wonder if, its a test, see how much I could hold up on my shoulder |
| T-R-U 'cross my stomach, on my back, a fuckin' soldier |
| It just don’t seem right, it just don’t seem right |
| The shit a nigga go through, makin' me wanna scream like Mike |
| It stresses me, its only after this |
| I wants to know, if its a in if I kill a nigga, over self-defense |
| Most of my people don’t like me |
| And a lot of 'em can’t stand me |
| But I wonder if its a sin if I kill and rob to feed my fuckin' family |
| It’s suvival of the fittest, you be my witness |
| I don’t give a fuck about the money |
| Cuz I can’t take none of that shit with me |
| If its a test, then let me know |
| But if its my time to go then let me go. |
| Amen |
| My record went gold, my family started money trippin |
| I could look into the eyes of a nigga that wants to catch me slippin' |
| Somebody hollered «Don't go out like 2Pac!» |
| That be the same nigga tryin' to fill me up, with buckshots |
| The game get dirty that’s why I’m blastin' |
| Its plenty niggas out there wanna see the P, in a casket |
| That’s why they spread rumors, lies, I died |
| Niggas don’t wanna see another nigga get a piece, fo the fuckin' pie |
| My friends trippin' cuz I got ends |
| Niggas don’t wanna see a black nigga rolin', in a fuckin' Benz |
| My old lady say I’m stuck up |
| I got to sleep with one eye open, this whole world is fucked up |
| Got me poppin' dono |
| Ask Bo but he don’t know what P know about the ghetto |
| You ain’t got no dollars, you got no friends |
| If I go to jail how many y’all niggas gon' visit me in the pen |
| But if I die it be a million niggas at my funeral |
| They wanna see me knocked out like Tyson, did Bruno |
| If I wear red or a blue, then I’m a gang banga |
| If I make gangsta rhymes, huh, then I’m a dope slanga |
| Every nigga I used to know that didn’t make it |
| Think I owe 'em somethin' |
| Every nigga I know in the ghetto, huh |
| Ask me to front 'em somethin' |
| My own company, niggas, want me to sign them up |
| They don’t think I could work for this shit |
| And how hard it take to come up |
| They too busy, throwin' tesses (tests) |
| Got me strapped with pistols wearin' bullet proof vesses (vests) |
| Every hoe I fuck, hope the rubber pop |
| The media spread rumors I smoke too much weed |
| I guess they wanna see me smokin' rocks |
| Heh, I think the Lord is testin' me |
| Either this a bad dream or my fuckin' mind messin' with me |
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