Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lord Tryin To Tell Me, artist - French Montana.
Date of issue: 06.09.2010
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Lord Tryin To Tell Me |
Oww! |
Yeah |
Vigilante Season |
Boss Don, Dame Grease |
Let’s get 'em, yeah |
These streets, I got 'em in a smash |
If it’s worth it, throw his body to the surface |
Everything is picture perfect |
Dog I wouldn’t change a thing, got these niggas hatin' me |
Never once did they judge me when I couldn’t make it rain |
If you see that Boss Don, he deliver |
Every song, bitches they quiver, whenever I give 'em heavy dong |
Got that bezzy on my arm and it glisten like a charm, I’m the man |
See Jimmy, he my biggest fan, nigga damn |
See I do this shit for fun, I was only toying with that cockaroach |
Now it’s time to ride, we got lots of coke |
Know I cop the best shit on the streets, why you envy? |
Hit me with some punani, baby don’t be stingy |
Baby don’t be tryna diss the Boss Don Bigga, nigga no |
It’s best thing that I get the dough |
Higher stratuspheres, I can take you there, just grab my hand |
Make you disappear like the Magic Man, tragic, damn |
The lord is tryna tell you somethin' (somethin') somethin' (somethin') |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror… |
… then don’t know who you are (are) |
Po-Po they almost caught it in the crib but we flushed it (flushed it) |
Flushed it (flushed it) |
Gain Greene gettin' money, you bitches, I hope you notice the cars, awwww |
(Oh why?) You can see it in my eyes, I’m tryna ride |
(Oh why?) You in heaven but nobody waan die |
(Oh why?) I love fi see a battyman cry |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror then don’t know who you are |
We hear to stay like sickle cell |
And you can tell I’m through these faces like Trenton Trail |
Montana, Biggavell, on-camera, get you killed, fit the bill |
Cop kinda work that don’t fit the scale |
Niggas try to counterfeit me and my niggas style |
I be lookin' on that WorldStar, watch a nigga style and try to book 'em |
Fuck up your budget, the cannon bust and them shots flying |
Fresh outta high school to the league, Mount Zion |
I’m like Kobe with the.40, McGrady with the.80 |
Shaq with the Mac, put a hole in your back |
I’m a product of that product they be baggin' up |
Coke Boyz, prices on his head, toe-tag 'em up |
You niggas underpaid, went and got the London Wave |
Gain Greene/Coke Wave renegades |
You know them niggas gun a hot, 100 shots |
You know we run the streets, what the bumboclaat |
Montana, bitch |
The lord is tryna tell you somethin' (somethin') somethin' (somethin') |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror… |
… then don’t know who you are (are) |
Po-Po they almost caught it in the crib but we flushed it (flushed it) |
Flushed it (flushed it) |
Gain Greene gettin' money, you bitches, I hope you notice the cars, awwww |
(Oh why?) You can see it in my eyes, I’m tryna ride |
(Oh why?) You in heaven but nobody waan die |
(Oh why?) I love fi see a battyman cry |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror then don’t know who you are |
Back up in this shit again, me and Dame Grease we got another hit again |
Scratch workers in tenements |
I’m innocent, wasn’t even there |
People whisper when they see me like, «That's him! |
That’s him! |
«Benjamins, get 'em by the bunch, bullets hit him by the bunch in his gut |
He salty 'cause his bitch a slut, lift her up |
Beat it while I’m standing, 'cause she cheated, I’m the man |
Pop that cannon in a jam, I was the man when I was vanned |
Now the bitches do whatever I say, «Baby, give me some. |
Fix me up. |
Hit you with the K."I get plenty munch |
Y’all niggas know where he from, we Harlem, bitch |
Ridin' on you faggots, y’all gon' hear me come |
Y’all niggas gon' hear me dump (dump) at my rival crew |
This 50 bag inside my shoe, 5th of Grand Cru |
Y’all know how we do, this is how we move on our enemies |
Kill 'em all one by one |
Bend 'em up in piles, I’m gon' send 'em up to style, wow |
The lord is tryna tell you somethin' (somethin') somethin' (somethin') |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror… |
… then don’t know who you are (are) |
Po-Po they almost caught it in the crib but we flushed it (flushed it) |
Flushed it (flushed it) |
Gain Greene gettin' money, you bitches, I hope you notice the cars, awwww |
(Oh why?) You can see it in my eyes, I’m tryna ride |
(Oh why?) You in heaven but nobody waan die |
(Oh why?) I love fi see a battyman cry |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror then don’t know who you are |
(Oh why?) You can see it in my eyes, I’m tryna ride |
(Oh why?) You in heaven but nobody waan die |
(Oh why?) I love fi see a battyman cry |
Every morning you wake up and hit the mirror then don’t know who you are |