Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Lord Have Mercy, artist - Sean Price.
Date of issue: 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 |