Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Pastor , by - Jag. Release date: 05.03.2019
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Pastor |
| Yeah, my guy Morris, oh yeah |
| Woo, this that Loren Miller shit, yeah |
| Peep me out |
| Yeah, niggas laughin', them niggas lookin' quite funny |
| They saw me chillin' with Meek, I was fat and lookin' quite bummy |
| Smartest niggas who diss me, them niggas lookin' like dummies |
| They never thought that they’d see me, I come in lookin' like money |
| I swear, park the Bentley in the hood and still say what’s up |
| A nigga dick is worth money, bitches should pay to fuck |
| Never forget the real, these niggas countin' me out |
| Like I ain’t spendin' on that, nigga, this shit for bills |
| But ain’t no fallin', I’m big ballin', my bitches ill |
| Her dress is fitted, the kicks is killed, she the shit for real |
| These niggas get on they tough shit, I’ma get the steel and eat |
| Talkin' Wolfgang Puck shit when they ship the meal |
| Helen diamonds, I gots the boss on the trip, you know |
| Grill up the calamari, the lobster sauce for the drip, that’s real |
| So much money, I feel like I need a posse |
| I’m killin' you seed, cocky |
| I’m breaded like DiBiase, it’s JAG |
| My time comin', it’s the maker |
| And we just tryna double up that pay stub |
| The whole world changin', you should shape up |
| And you can feel my soul when I speak |
| Speak, ain’t tryna preach, tryna preach |
| Follow me, yes I’ve got the mess |
| Let me speak, ain’t tryna preach, tryna preach |
| Best believe you gon' get that mess |
| Look, uh, Swizz Beatz' dad told me to stay calm |
| Black power, dark skin and wavy, I feel like Akon |
| They approach me like they talkin' to Joffrey, like what you say, bruh? |
| Prolly kick me out the game for my words, I feel like Dre ma |
| I was movin' hand to hand, door to door, like Avon |
| Mama made a great, got her walkin' 'round like she’s Jay’s mom |
| Yeah, I never look to fail, remember niggas had to eyeball |
| 'Cause I ain’t have no bread, the cops took the scale |
| I get a deal, I look to sell, these niggas look to tell |
| Ballin' but I still’d be the coach, it’s like they booked Latrell |
| I ain’t impressed, talkin' high shit, fly on the jet |
| Tile the text, tell a bad bitch to lie on her chest |
| A nigga fly, I leave the brib and land right on the mess |
| That’s the shit, I kiss her neck and land right on her breasts |
| Boss move, I got a table 'fore I got in the club |
| 'Cause a nigga drownin' up in money, feel like Pac in the tub |
| JAG |
| My time comin', it’s the maker |
| And we just tryna double up that pay stub |
| The whole world changin', you should shape up |
| And you can feel my soul when I speak |
| Speak, ain’t tryna preach, tryna preach |
| Follow me, yes I’ve got the mess |
| Let me speak, ain’t tryna preach, tryna preach |
| Best believe you gon' get that mess |