Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Blind Threats, artist - ScHoolboy Q. Date of issue: 31.12.2013
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Blind Threats |
| Right, uh, same shit every day, homie |
| Lord, please forgive me for all my sins |
| Yeah, nigga wake up to the same shit every day, homie |
| Walk through the valley of the shadow of death, no rules, right |
| Washing my sins off in hell’s water |
| Feel like the Bible told me lies as I pray to 'em |
| Kneel down, put my faith in 'em, will you answer me? |
| But if God won’t help me, this gun will |
| I swear I’m gon' find my way |
| Uh, four corners |
| Cat and mouse chase, got cheese to catch |
| High on on some drug, I’m Space Cadet |
| Dreaming I don’t live up on the block no more |
| Trapping, trying to make it out this obstacle |
| Life on the edge, hell a block away |
| Pretty Snow White turned eight today |
| Selling that base, no Dr. Dre |
| Uh, guess who in the building? |
| Bucket hat with a strap like a pilgrim |
| Uh, kneeling down with some questions to address like |
| Why the ones who commit the worst sins live the best? |
| The Ten Commandments, I can mark five checks |
| But I sense flaws, the Bible preaching blind threats |
| Streets held me down, got faith in a Pyrex |
| Faith in a four-five, I call it the clarinet |
| Sewer full of drugs when the toilet digests |
| From the cop raid, all can relate from the streets |
| To the wall from niggas to compadres |
| When the sun go down, I’m predicting a heatwave |
| Forecast your whole body, heat on, room full of homi’s |
| I just pray that the Lord got me |
| But if God don’t help me, this gun will |
| I swear I’m gon' find my way |
| Mic check, mic check, mic check |
| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low |
| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low |
| But if God won’t help me, this gun will |
| I swear I’m gon' find my way |
| Aim that, shoot that, pledge allegiance |
| Kill mine, kill yours, make it even |
| Soul need saving, Mr. Preacher |
| I know I only come around when it’s Easter |
| Funerals, Thanksgiving, Christmas time |
| When I’m in jail or when my card declined |
| Uh, will you answer me? |
| Take me out of hell and make plans for me? |
| Misery loves company, ain’t a surprise |
| It was just me and my niggas, we was trying to survive |
| But we would never make it out alive |
| Shit, we living to die—oxymoron |
| Hope to get to heaven 'til that day arrive |
| Running through the alley, hope the bullet don’t collide |
| Car window shattered, glass on my right side |
| Dogs bark in the backyard, rootin' for me |
| Out of shape belly, courtesy of 40 |
| Spoiled only child, baby boy Jody |
| Same jacket on from back in the day |
| Praying that the Lord come and take me away |
| But if God won’t help me, this gun will |
| I swear I’m gon' find my way |
| Mic check, mic check, mic check |
| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low |
| La-la, la-la, low-low, la-la, la-la, low (Yeah, yeah, nigga, la) |
| But if God won’t help me, this gun will |
| I swear I’m gon' find my way |
| Yeah, ScHoolboy, what up, nigga? |
| Let’s take these niggas down |
| Ayo, tuna fish sandwiches bread, dry and stinking |
| Black Lincoln, burgundy Mac, I clap a king-pin |
| Caught me in the airport dusted that I was thinking |
| On how to stay rich and get bills with my acquaintances |
| Yeah, money is the issue, I diss you |
| It’s no problem at all, yo, the bunch on the pistol |
| 'Cause I’m a suitcase king |
| Cooling at the gambling spot with a screwed face grin |
| New Beige Bent, we stay winning, play it again, yo |
| Put the bone in your jaw, now say it again |
| Round nightfall under the tents, coming to rinse |
| Get out the way or let the shotty dispense |
| Revenge killers who make the events iller |
| This is more realer, snatch you right up out of the Benz |
| The Wu wheelers who huddle up, coupes knows the truth |
| You know the whoopty-whoop, solo or group, I kill niggas |