| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| Sober, look
|
| How many people endure that judgment?
|
| The steeple is meant to usher the presence of Higher Power
|
| But the reverend desires showers with seven virgins
|
| And hours of heaven, lustful pleasures
|
| A couple C cups and the essence enough to keep blood rushin', I fuck with her
|
| heavy
|
| I might jump in her belly
|
| I might summon her friends just so we all function like Eddie
|
| I treat it like an animal plus the camera’s on steady
|
| Do my damage then go scramble leaf panties like levies
|
| They gon' judge me no matter what I do, uh
|
| So I keep my halo with a peace sign. |
| give a fuck 'bout you
|
| When I recline, I’ma need a fee, never get enough, I knew
|
| I barely even touched my food, we skipped the appetizers
|
| When I slip inside her, when I’m done, I’m like, «What the fuck I do?»
|
| Now her head’s on my sleeve, my hand’s on her weave
|
| She wanna stay and parlay and conversate over trees
|
| But now I’m ready to leave
|
| And now I’m just wonderin' where my keys is at
|
| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| One-Time 'bout to pull up
|
| One-Time 'bout to pull up
|
| Tell them niggas stop doin' pull-ups on the stop sign
|
| Assembly line with this Glock 9
|
| We don’t toss that, tell her put in her purse
|
| We live this real-life shit then put it in a verse
|
| But this freak really askin' me, «Do them bullets really hurt?»
|
| Can’t answer no questions unless you really from the turf
|
| But I can put you on
|
| See your curves from them curves that I swerved up on
|
| Legs so smooth, the type of thighs you sniff a bird up on
|
| Fuck the summer walker, no many how many times we done heard that song
|
| Daycare on your back, scoop them kids up with the shirt that’s on
|
| Back to the block where niggas active, no drama teachers
|
| Pour O.E. |
| out for our lost ones and stay elevated like Balenciaga sneakers
|
| Inglewood to Compton, Space Jam’s on, shot it out with monsters
|
| 13 to your back, Trispy Thomspon
|
| K.G., I’m like the chopper had a conscious
|
| Every nigga gotta watch how he movin'
|
| Every picture got a nigga next to Judas
|
| Every nigga got his own cross to bear
|
| And that’s the reason that
|
| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| They put a cross on Jesus' back
|
| They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
|
| This is Ye’s Sunday service with killer and murders
|
| Must have heard us comin', don’t let them niggas in the church with us
|
| This is Ye’s Sunday service with killer and murders
|
| Must have heard us comin', don’t let them niggas in the church with us |