Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Bless His Soul, artist - Fredo Bang. Date of issue: 05.08.2021
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Bless His Soul |
| Ain’t that DJ Chose over there? |
| Look like DJ Chose |
| Hardbody |
| Woadie got a body, he ain’t tell nobody |
| He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul |
| Right hand on the Bible, tell the lie straight to the judge |
| Just 'cause he ain’t never fold, hope God bless his soul (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Ain’t gotta drop a bag, got niggas to do that shit for free (Grr) |
| Ain’t gotta spend a band, got niggas to do that shit for me |
| Got a house up in the 'burb, my mama house still in the streets (Ooh-ooh) |
| Know that we be actin' (Playin'), that AC that I’m packin' is compact ('Pact) |
| Ask around my city, I work that ratchet (Yeah) |
| I’m livin' what they rappin', pull it out like Go Go Gadget (Boaw) |
| I put my savage on even though he actin' (Yeah) |
| Get a bag and not a casket (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| I was taught to get it in the old way (Old way) |
| I was slingin' iron up on that tollway (Tollway) |
| I been traumatized, I can’t let nobody close, babe |
| Snakes in disguise, told me lies with a bold face |
| I salute to the real one time |
| Hoppin' gates, tryna duck one time |
| Kept it real, ain’t think of switchin' one time |
| You hit a lick to feed your kids, but that’s fine |
| Woadie got a body, he ain’t tell nobody |
| He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul |
| Right hand on the Bible, tell the lie straight to the judge |
| Just 'cause he ain’t never fold, hope God bless his soul (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Ain’t gotta drop a bag, got niggas to do that shit for free (Grr) |
| Ain’t gotta spend a band, got niggas to do that shit for me |
| Got a house up in the 'burb, my mama house still in the streets (Ooh-ooh) |
| Let off clips when we drill shit, clap his dome |
| With some old heads on field trips like chaperones, uh |
| These niggas vaginal, my niggas animals |
| From the murder capital where catchin' bodies casual |
| Keep these angels guardin' me, saved us with a harmony |
| My daddy saw the star in me when stars seemed too far to reach |
| I’m perfectin' my artistry, grew up on Tha Carter III |
| Shoot like we play for varsity, these slugs’ll hit his artery |
| He can’t be with gang, we revoked him of his membership |
| Out here writin' statements like he workin' on his penmanship |
| Hellcat just for racin', fuck around and bought the dealership |
| Mama look, I made it and I still got all my killers here |
| Woadie got a body, he ain’t tell nobody |
| He stuck to the code, hope God bless his soul |
| Right hand on the Bible, tell the lie straight to the judge |
| Just 'cause he ain’t never fold, hope God bless his soul (Yeah, yeah, yeah) |
| Ain’t gotta drop a bag, got niggas to do that shit for free (Grr) |
| Ain’t gotta spend a band, got niggas to do that shit for me |
| Got a house up in the 'burb, my mama house still in the streets (Ooh-ooh) |
| Yeah, I salute to the real one time |
| Hoppin' gates, tryna duck one time |
| Kept it real, ain’t think of switchin' one time |
| You hit a lick to feed your kids, but that’s fine |