Shyheim - Good Lord lyrics

[sample] Boy, we've got to face it, let's talk it out today We've got to get that feeling back, lift all these sins away [Intro: IMF Blue Steele] The f** out here, I praise my own to God, he gon' let me eat [IMF Blue Steele] Through my, days and nights, I pray and write For that, one of those prayers might save my life Or, change my life, I came to write I could see my name in lights, big chains with ice I'm thinking futuristic for when I come out Don't blink cuz you might miss it, son, when I come out Cuz I'ma f** sh** up so drastic that the public ma**es Gon' be like (What the f** was that sh**?) And this n***a crazy with it cuz he done babysitted A pen and paper, that'd give him the vapors Matter of fact, son, that'd give him them papers Contract signatures, Cognac, sip it up Negociating in a all black tinted truck Yeah, I slow grind it, but son I picked it up And they made mine, no more WIC for us Look what the most high God done did for us Front lawn, back yard, a crib for us A nice big garage and a car that's just for us So I gotta thank my God for this, cuz uh... I could be locked down behind bars or stiff as f** And you know I keep my hammer on my waist Slugs fly around a n***a, I need a camera in my face Units being sold, beautiful as gold And try to a get a plaque quick, a liar for this rap sh** [Chorus: IMF Blue Steele] Thanks to to the good Lord, I made it through the hood wars Now I'm trying to book tours, n***a (cuz I seen did it all) After this rap sh**, I'm not going back with this Sleeping on a pissy-a** mattress (cuz I done did it all) Thanks to this mic check, a n***a get the right cheques No longer gotta worry what the price is (cuz I'ma get it all) Now, I shall slide through life And paint pictures for ya eye through mics (and y'all I could hear it all) [IMF Blue Steele] I survived lots of fights on lots of nights Now my wrist all chipped with rocks, aight? Ya like? And this is just a pitstop Y'all trying to get props, not me, I'ma get rich, watch Spend another hundred thou' on a wrist watch n***as like, "Son is running wild in that 6 drop" Yeah, but I'm still awesome with the tongue Keep the larcen on me, son With that grip shirt, I'm looking like a Martian with a gun Parking in the slums, hopping out, n***as blunts roll, offer Remy some Son, will ya get that? Matter of fact, what is that? That n***a said, "A little blueberry mixed with Kit Kat" Y'all n***as just rap, I'm trying to Sinatra on them songs Y'all n***as rocking on them wrong Matter of fact, I'm Sammy Davis on the beats So all that gat rap ya talk, make her save it for the streets Cuz... [Chorus] [IMF Blue Steele] When I mic check, I make n***as write cheques I'm trying to live life, yes, b**h with nice breasts Little nice sectionary project groupies Give me a budget to direct movies Just a can't lose these, tie up to the street If I die, I'ma still be alive on these beats God forbid, so I jar with the niz These n***as is gon' not take this father from his kids It's hard when you live in the slums with ya babies That's why y'all n***as be trying to run from ya babies I ain't going nowhere, I'ma show my seeds How you could go from nothing to 4 to 5 E's I'm looking for 6 daughters and 4 David's Business lawyers on my caller I.D.'s Coffee in the morning, sugar in the bowl I'm flossy when I'm yawning, there's bullets in my boats [Chorus] [Outro: IMF Blue Steele] sh**, n***a, sh**, n***a, sh** n***a, come on...