Blac Youngsta and T.I. - Church On Sunday
(Tahj Money)Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (yeah)
Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (King)
Tryna find a church I believe in
Worth wakin' up on the weekend
How the preacher teachin' us and he sin?
Told God I don't do middlemen (nah)
Your bitch easy like Sunday (uh)
Bitch always pullin' up some place (ooh)
Come right up out that Givenchy (sheesh)
Then haul ass in that Hyundai (skrrt)
Turn your loss into a lesson
Don't regret your mistake
Build your character
And that's gon' take you places money can't
Just stay solid in this bitch
Show no emotion, poker face
What's understood don't need to be explained
Them niggas know the play
Remember all I wanted was a beeper
And an open face
I started trappin'
Still totin' pistols with an open case
Started rappin', learned bad habits
Really hard to break
Let my kid down
The only thing that make my heart break
Do it big, large estate
Pull up in an iron rod gate
Lookin' for the smart play
Never work a hard day
If there's a deal to be done
I'ma do it, run my bag up
What God got for me, my blessing
It do not come from no pastor, nah
Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (yeah)
Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (yeah)
Killin' shit, I was forced to (yeah)
Go against me, I'll torch you (yeah)
Ambulance, they'll rush you (yeah)
12 came through and bust you (yeah)
I was like hell, he ain't go to jail
How the fuck can I trust you? (Wait)
I'm a superstar, 'fore you walk up on me
My security gotta touch you
You'll be dead and gone, when they love you
Only found bones when they dug you
On your backbone, I'ma rub you
Only comin' home just to fuck you
I go to church just to pay my tithes
I know they watch 'cause they bite my style
I let real niggas in my house
I make fuck niggas stand outside
I don't regret shit
I'm a street nigga, I don't take shit
Get on the beat and I bless shit
When you on your feet, that's the best shit
Real rap, Funkmaster Flex shit
And I'm strapped, ridin' with the TEC shit
Still got my feet on they neck shit
They can't rest shit (yeah)
Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (yeah)
Church on Sunday (let's do it)
'Bout my money (do it, yeah)
Trap on Monday (let's do it)
Traphouse jumpin' (let's do it)
I ain't runnin' (let's do it)
I might gun 'em
Shipment comin' (let's do it)
Better not fumble (yeah)
Written by:
Sammie Benson, Clifford Harris
Publisher:
Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
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