Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Lord Have Mercy , by - Sean Price. Release date: 07.08.2017
Song language: English
Lord Have Mercy |
| I’m sick of all the rumors |
| Gun smoke, son choke, the Heimlich Maneuver |
| The nine spit, the Ruger, the prints is wiped |
| And then thrown into the drain 'cause the game played right |
| I’d rather box, but I’ll shoot your ass |
| Gang leader, say, «Do it,» and niggas do it fast |
| I rap all the time |
| And when I’m not doin' that, then it’s back to the crime |
| The truth, the autobiography of |
| A nigga from Brownsville, black glove on the snub |
| Yawdy boys spliff green |
| Had me lookin' clueless, Hardy Boy mystery |
| Hakuna matata, no plans to shoot ya |
| King of the apes and the papes, Mansa Musa |
| I know the streets down pat, I’m unaware |
| I once sold crack in Delaware, truth |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |
| Thou shalt not get fronted work he can’t get rid of |
| Black glid-doves'll be the holder for your killer |
| Flow, no Brita, culprit, a coldness |
| Raw rap stick to the ribs, good for some porridge |
| Express life, item ready, my tribe ready |
| We ride steady, tryna belly this confetti |
| Sharp as a machete, niggas suffer from bluffin' |
| Fallin' for temptations and turn Ruffin |
| I get it in on sight like Visine |
| No dry scenes, the words you utter is vice dreams |
| Fifth tucked, like a seal liquor, I flea flicker |
| The blicka after the hit up and sell it to a dumb nigga |
| It’s a cycle, they scope to see you for a rifle |
| Seems the ones tellin' the lies, you wanna idol |
| It’s a thin line with love and gettin' mine |
| So that metal get tow trucked, everybody get fined |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |
| I just got through boxin' a panther |
| Cold cut bow, stuff the face of your grandpa, nigga |
| You might as well go and get you a day job |
| Stop rappin', slap you at the movies, I’m not actin' |
| The coldest rapper in Chicago, homie |
| Creep mode, speak flows in the all black Suaconys |
| You niggas not my homies, better call the god upstairs |
| Spit bars at your heart, you fall right there |
| The heaviest, deadliest, trimmed all the fat on the petty |
| I’m Dante Gabriel Rossetti |
| The microphone is a machete |
| Nigga can’t break a bank but I can break a levee |
| I’m different like bringin' fried chicken to a fish fry |
| You don’t have a bite like a mothafuckin' crane fly |
| Lord have mercy on their souls |
| Read the rest of my bars in the Dead Sea Scrolls |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have mercy, lord have mercy |
| Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy |