Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Morning Mourning, artist - Styles P. Date of issue: 03.05.2018
Song language: English
Morning Mourning |
| Bill «The Butcher» Cutting: Is this it, Priest? |
| The Pope’s new army? |
| A few crusty bitches and a handful of rag-tags? |
| Priest Vallon: Now, now, Bill, you swore this was a battle between warriors, |
| not a bunch of Miss Nancies |
| So warriors is what I brought |
| A cold heart and a hot slug is not love |
| Them boys’ll pop up, leave you chopped up |
| There’s a lot of pussy niggas, but it’s not us |
| Got cuffed, why you think I’m frontin' in a drop truck? |
| Grindin', I work real hard, wasn’t pot luck |
| 'Lotta work in the pot, couple niggas was shot up |
| The glorifyin' times or the horrifyin' crimes |
| But the more I see the soft shit, the more that I’m inclined |
| To let the real niggas know it’s all about the shine |
| Let 'em get it in the sun, get your gun when the moon fall |
| Soon I’ll tell the goons meet the Ghost by the pool hall |
| 'Cause when the rules get lost, it’s a fool’s fault |
| Take a smart man to get in on the smooth course |
| Singin' You Will Never Find by Lou Ross |
| Thinkin' can I live? |
| Now the crib got two floors |
| Can’t snooze off, nor take my shoes off |
| 'Lotta niggas is rude, that shit’ll throw your mood off |
| 'Lotta niggas is cruel, tryna' cut your fuel off |
| Watch your ride die, no jump for you |
| They ain’t pump you up but I bet you they got a pump for you |
| Right here he said he would dump for you |
| Then he went and left on your death, they on the hunt for you |
| Maybe you just blind or maybe you just fine with gettin' lined |
| 'Cause you pussy by design, what! |
| Mama told me to pray in the mornin' (To pray) |
| I’m stuck here in the place tonight (We been stuck up in this place tonight) |
| God forbid we don’t make it to the mornin' |
| In the rain that I died could be found in my mom’s eyes |
| See the pain that she feel while she moanin' (She moanin'-she moanin') |
| Don’t wait to pray 'til the mornin'-the mornin' |
| 'Cause you might not make it home-make it home |
| Yeah, you die if you violate, eyes dilate |
| Blowin' weed tryna vibrate |
| Thirty-eight in my size nines, win the Tri-State |
| Swim with the sharks, you a killa or you live bait? |
| Considered a titan although I’m only five-eight |
| Born in the jungle, made it out, I survived hate |
| Run with gorillas, bang my chest like I’m a primate |
| Consider me a land pirate that knows the pie rate |
| Get lined without a ruler, a nine at your medulla for a lil' bit of moolah |
| Found his body chopped up in Mexico in the cooler |
| Right next to a shooter and his best friend |
| It ain’t chess but they put him in, check then |
| If you know the math on the wrath, he is less than |
| From the south side, but I hustle on the west end |
| Pain and that stress gon' kill you if it’s kept in |
| Ghost, nigga |
| Mama told me to pray in the mornin' (To pray) |
| I’m stuck here in the place tonight (We been stuck up in this place tonight) |
| God forbid we don’t make it to the mornin' |
| In the rain that I died could be found in my mom’s eyes |
| See the pain that she feel while she moanin' (She moanin'-she moanin') |
| Don’t wait to pray 'til the mornin'-the mornin' |
| 'Cause you might not make it home-make it home |
| You might not make it home |