Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Amen, artist - Şevin. Album song P4MH: Church in tha Jungle, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 31.08.2017
Record label: hog mob muzik
Song language: English
Amen |
Yeah! |
For Real! |
GOD over Money! |
Forever Mobbin' bruh! |
HOG MOB Nigga, yeah |
I’m fully convinced of this thing you feel me? |
Yeah |
I’ve seen it with my own eyes |
I’ve felt it with my own heart, yeah ay |
Ya digg? |
My whole city is a cemetery, brains buried in smeared guts |
The proof of my sorrow ain’t carried in tear ducts, nah |
I don’t fear much, they be buckin' here |
I slept in my bucket here and crept like a buccaneer |
I came from beneath dust just like an Arabian tomb |
To glow like the Mesopotamian moon |
I ain’t playin' I learned to bang in the womb |
They still got they baby teeth mane |
Beef’s what I mainly consume |
Yeah |
I washed it down with the deuce double dash |
Lights out with the sawed off -- |
Double blast |
Hoping to feed LORD my soul will be restored |
Before I leave my enemies deported to the morgue |
Huh I’m so famished won’t manage to last |
Without encouragement for nourishment the cannon’ll blast |
Get ready for the famine or you planning to crash |
Like high speed with eyes squeezed and both hands on the gas |
When I sleep I see a man in a mask |
That’s why I feel I gotta keep enough heat |
To turn sand into glass |
No weapon formed against me prospers |
But I’m overly cautious hit my knee I go to war at these altars |
You can tell he’s a soldier even strolling he marches |
Got an army of HOG MOB warriors and archers |
Born in the storm where we poor and they starve us |
And every part of my heart grew as cold as the arctics |
From an era where my state’s death toll is the largest |
And I’m still losing them to the tomb and multiple charges |
Yeah, he ain’t know that the cats he serving |
Had been plotting on his stacks since he last observed 'em |
You could almost hear his casket urging «relax!» |
Then they swerve through the trap in that black suburban |
And this is when a normal day becomes the active version |
HKs lift your face like a plastic surgeon |
He ain’t get to let his plastic serve him |
It’s too late for that, no headstone dog |
We ain’t got no cake for that |
No high-priced coffin with the brass on the crown |
Just a plot with fresh grass and a plaque on the ground |
The angel of death’s here and he came for his reckoning |
I pray to the Saviour from the manger in Bethlehem |
Cause they betrayed Him on the creep and tied Him |
But He still turned His cheek when they beat and tried Him |
And His niggas said, «JESUS if it’s beef we ridin'» |
Then His closest homie Pete denied Him |
You ain’t read about Him? |
He even seen the faces of the peeps |
That He healed in the streets up in the people crowdin' |
Now the Greeks and the Hebrews doubt Him |
Desired Him to die they hung Him high |
And threw some thieves beside Him |
And He still kept the peace inside Him |
Lift His head to the sky and said |
«They dead LORD please revive 'em.» |
Yeah, see I can’t speak for you |
I can only speak on what I know |
What I’ve seen, what I’ve experienced you feel me |
I ain’t wanna live, I ain’t want God but here I am, haha |
It’s cause He’s real! |
For real! |
GOD over Money Forever Mobbin' yeah! |