| Dear Lord, this is your boy Bam
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| Can’t nobody do what you done done God
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| One of the ghetto graduates, three men in here
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| Ready to deliver, number one, all they internal sins
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| On pen and paper, and right now, they fin to let
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| You know how it is, it’s a chance, God bless us
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| Allah, you number one
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| Well it’s my return, and I’ve been gone for too long
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| I’m in a different state of mind, yeah Wood is in the zone
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| Demonstrate the arsenal head shots, with red dots and wet spots
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| Soaking shirts up, till my churf up with red spots
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| Bag of leaves and the chronic trees, South Texas ki’s and let you weed
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| They jacking leaves for cake and cheese, I make the G’s and you may believe
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| Shouldn’t wish up on your clover leaf, wishing up on a star
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| Losing my memory behind a bar, all I want is drank out the jar
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| Locked in the Penn talking back to the guards, shooting the kite
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| Taking the back of my broad, pulling a candy Lac in my yard
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| Strapped up talking back to you boys, I’m armed alarmed and informed
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| And I’m hollin' on my own, for the rings to the pawn
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| Gotta pass up the coin, to the Tre where I was born
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| Wood, and I’m hot as a fire place, in a eskimo’s house
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| You get the, you get the, you get the splinters in your mouth
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| Quinbrown my hardest hood close to downtown, round for round
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| And pound for pound, I’m making you bitch boys bow down
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| I’ve been waiting patiently
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| I wonder if a nigga’s really blessed, cause I’m still here
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| Niggas steady, hating me
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| I wonder if a nigga’s really blessed, cause I’m still here
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| I’ve been waiting patiently
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| I wonder if a nigga’s really blessed, cause I’m still here
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| Why does he forsaken me
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| I wonder if a nigga’s really blessed
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| It ain’t my fault, my Lord please forgive me for static
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| But I had that line in my T.V., and being broke and don’t have it
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| I’m playing a deadly game of chess, over rugers and vests
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| Ride on hollow tips when I’m spitting, still into the flesh
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| Thug wounds got me paranoid, tattooed and scarred
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| Running away from the fraud, hiding behind tint in the car
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| I’m blowing sweet after sweet, real niggas in her feel me
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| Saran wrapping the duffle bag, swang bitching to bust me
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| I’m bout my paper, my Lord please don’t let it be in vein
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| I got a son two little girls, and they got hustle in they vein
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| Kamikaze with an infrared, scoping my mind
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| Puffing on lime swinging on 20's, bumping low on the ground
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| Satellite shaking bitches, putting cameras on cords
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| Puff the yay and pass the weed, cause everybody love marijuana
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| I’mma slap for you nigga, two hundred fifty on concrete
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| Moved patiently and silently, you dialing nigga
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| I watch my life pass me by, in the blink of an eye
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| Another stick of fry, cause the regular weed no longer get me high
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| Popping extasy like Aspirin, come down a nigga block blasting
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| You don’t wanna meet that reaper nigga, you hoes come off my cash man
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| I’m trying to keep it holy, this thug life keep calling my name
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| Every now and then I take a loss, but see that’s all in the game
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| Look at what you did to me, I’m free but I’m still living on lie
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| Everyday it’s one mo' murder, one mo' partna that drop
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| I wonder if the sun shines on the other side
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| Cause I bet my mama ain’t seen a rainy day, since she died
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| I’m a living legend still in the flesh, automatic assault rifle and a vest
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| Cause my partnas try to put me to rest
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| So I treat my pistol like a queen, as I fiend for the green
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| And I never put anyone before my bitch, I’m jealous as I service my beam
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| A murdering team, forgive me for my sins O’Lord
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| But I’m trying to make it, cause this ghetto life is so hard
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| (*talking*) |
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Wonder If I’m Blessed , by - Z-Ro. Song from the album I Found Me Volume 2, in the genre Иностранный рэп и хип-хоп