[Intro: Pastor Dave]
GBS we out here
Pastor Dave
Wish i had my homie Blind Frog for this one
Big Booty Records
8 Hill Street Production
Hookah Boy's
GBS
Let's get it
[Verse 1: Pastor Dave]
Cash rules everything around me, cream
Everything you see around you ain't just how how it's seems
Succumb to everything, yo that p**y money weed
Pa** me the hookah and then pa** the motherf**ing trees
Focus on success, gotta be patient now
Took a job nine a hour what I'm making now
Not success, if it was success id be making thous
It was success id have all the models naked now
Having a g belt in high school really don't mean nothing
Spent your whole pay check homie stop fronting
But no knock, you doing you but doing you ain't doing me
So I'ma do me even when I approach the beat
That means no false threats look at how I'm doing
Even this rap really ain't what I'm pursuing
But I went into the lab and just look what I started brewing
Got my first line down and the rest just started cruising
Pastor trying to make millions
That means ain't gotta spare feelings
Pop a couple shots for my realest
Come at me take a couple shots from my realest
Got a lot of potential look up to the ceiling
Can't see it couldn't get to it gotta climb the building
You rappers making up what are you concealing
Saying I'ma leave you spilling and I'm the trillest
Just cause to everyone that sh** sounds appealing
[Verse 2: Pastor Dave]
Thought I was finished on some meek sh** please b**h
Peep this was for winter murder but leaked it
Believe this
Told you in the first verse it ain't what it seems b**h
My bars is the sh** but come out the cleanest
Ain't into cars or clothes
Party's and hoes
But I wear nice sh**, drink with my bros
This girl want my dick, so I guess I like hoes
About to give it to her quick, but on the down low
Let's bring it back the cyphers at Monchy's got me started
I would get high and spit my rhymes was retarded
When It came to the best pastor Dave was always regarded
Cause every time I spit to be the best was my target
Stay puffin on that shisha, stop f**ing with that reefer
But I'll still kick it with Mary like FIFA
Back home fam keep guns on their waist like a beeper
You can try and run from that bullet but it will reach ya
[Verse 3: Pastor Dave]
Cake cake cake cake cake cake
b**hes popping p**y that's fish cake
I nutted on her booty that's a mist cake
I wasn't supposed to say that that's a mistake
f**ed her on the counter that's a marble cake
I want j**els and cash that's ice cream cake
Albert Pujols money that's an angel cake
Cake cake cake cake cake
I see some dudes do some shady sh** like aftermath
To their boys and try to be cool you just have to laugh
They'll double cross ya back and try to be fam after that
It's a f**ed up world when you try to fathom that
I'm just trying to be successful When I grew up in Buffalo
Everybody trying to hustle And happy cause they got a couple
But in reality they stupider than Barney Rubble
But not me I learned I'm staying away from that trouble
I ain't want to worry about catching b's
I want to worry about if I'm catching z's
I just want a good job and be petting c's
And chill with my homies GBS till the d**h of me