| Hopsin put me on in this bitch, I wish you the best fam
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| I was thinking 'bout murking the whole staff of Def Jam
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| Niggas sleeping on me like a muthafucking craftmatic
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| Counted me out, guess these faggots bad at they mathematics
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| Cursing God like «why the fuck You take my brother?»
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| Prescription pills to coke, guess I love the feel of these uppers
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| Arguing niggas cause Pac wasn’t in my top five
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| You don’t fuck with me hoe, you die from carbon monoxide
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| Fuck the small talk, my blood pressure boiling
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| If I wanna shoot this shit, I pop this pistol at the toilet
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| A new year, fuck this nice guy shit
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| If you ain’t rocking with my clique, nigga bite my dick (blegh)
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| And Lord knows I keep something by the torso
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| As long as my fuck y’all award show
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| Praying on my downfall, want my soul to leave the earth
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| Put a hole in a nigga’s chest just like a Yeezy shirt
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| I’mma feed the needy first
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| Ill nigga, need a nurse
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| I ain’t forget you bitches just spat on me when you seen me hurt
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| Hey we done been to hell, I’m wishing my niggas well
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| Threw my nigga something on his books when he was sitting in jail
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| Time flies like looking good, nigga
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| Cashing checks doing the Soulja Boy, nigga youuu!
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| Niggas dying over repping they turf
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| Never know, so I’m praying with my Tec in the church
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| So they praying on my downfall
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| (Nigga praying on my downfall)
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| Bout to knock a nigga crown off
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| (Knock a nigga crown off)
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| Oh Lord I wish a nigga would
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| (Wish a nigga would)
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| Cup of Henny got me feelin' good
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| (Got me feelin' good)
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| Oh what a feelin' dog
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| (What a feelin' dog)
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| Bout to count a hundred million dog
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| (A hundred million dog)
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| Throw it up
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| Niggas reppin' they turf
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| Never know
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| So I’m praying with my tec in the church
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| I was told to bring a tec to the church and a bible to the trap
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| The only method that’s vital for survival is a strap
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| My little cousin was murdered I was stifled by the act
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| So when these niggas yap about violence I’m biased to they raps
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| I’m here to rescue you
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| spilling out of your breaths of truth
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| Only benefits who is honest, that’s how you execute
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| Watch who you pillow talk with, that’s how they retribute
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| These bitches use social media like a confession booth
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| Stay to myself, tread light, and keep my standards up
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| I was in a space financially where my hands were cuffed
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| I was in a space creatively where I had enough
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| Started releasing the music I made for myself so now the fans rush
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| Sunday mornings at St. John’s in Bay View
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| Young adolescents distorted we had the same view
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| Dice games in the basement repping our turf
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| Bumping Strange, you could say we had a tech in the church
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| So they praying on my downfall
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| (Nigga praying on my downfall)
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| Bout to knock a nigga crown off
|
| (Knock a nigga crown off)
|
| Oh Lord I wish a nigga would
|
| (Wish a nigga would)
|
| Cup of Henny got me feelin' good
|
| (Got me feelin' good)
|
| Oh what a feelin' dog
|
| (What a feelin' dog)
|
| Bout to count a hundred million dog
|
| (A hundred million dog)
|
| Throw it up
|
| Niggas reppin' they turf
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| Never know
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| So I’m praying with my tec in the church
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| Okay, I’m ready to die
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| Brrra, you waving that tec in the sky
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| You ready or not?
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| I enter the block leave all of you dead in a box
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| Who the fuck is you, Pac?
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| The fuck is you Biggie? |
| I never get love from the city
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| I never got shit, just a couple a titties
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| A couple a pennies and plenty of haters and tricks
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| Go fix your mouth before you get back handed
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| I’m from a bottled of rap planet where these hoes think I’m half-Spanish
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| The truth is I’m an Afghan, I’m half-black but I act frantic
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| I grab Xanax and pop Vikes and then make a crack sandwich
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| I’m mad at you
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| You would never keep your word, you’re such a crook
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| I can’t trust you, you’ll say anything for a couple bucks
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| That’s fucking nuts
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| Word to Karen Civil, you fucking slut
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| You’s just a thot and your mouth is as big as your twat
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| I know who is you not, fuck you and that Louis you got
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| With my money taking vacations and sucking noodles and cocks
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| They got proof you a fraudulent fuck with a Vince Carter neck
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| Crooked weave and some funny tits
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| And the face of a lumpy dick, my nigga fuck this bitch
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| Shit, I hope my 50k was worth it
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| Or your pimping days are murdered, you done bit the blade on purpose
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| I know this gon' make you nervous
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| Who the fuck did you encourage?
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| Hillary Clinton ain’t gon' like this, she’s fanning next to a serpent
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| I’m standing next to your merchant
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| Writing curses in cursive all over your fucking hearses
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| Get froggy, you’s just a hermit
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| Bitch go get your fucking hair did
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| How old is that shit?
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| I should wrap my dick around your neck and keep choking that shit, bitch
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| So they praying on my downfall
|
| (Nigga praying on my downfall)
|
| Bout to knock a nigga crown off
|
| (Knock a nigga crown off)
|
| Oh Lord I wish a nigga would
|
| (Wish a nigga would)
|
| Cup of Henny got me feelin' good
|
| (Got me feelin' good)
|
| Oh what a feelin' dog
|
| (What a feelin' dog)
|
| Bout to count a hundred million dog
|
| (A hundred million dog)
|
| Throw it up
|
| Niggas reppin' they turf
|
| Never know
|
| So I’m praying with my tec in the church |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Tec in the Church , by - Jarren Benton. Song from the album Slow Motion, Vol. 2, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп