STL GLD - Horrors

I got some coin in the bank
God put a little more in the tank
I ain't a saint
I need it all for pictures I could paint
Either you is or you ain't
With me and my niggas
burnin tryna to sizzle a 8th
I want to give a little
everybody fixing to take
How would you feel if everyday you didn't feel safe
I been dreaming of escaping this new rat race

Just think...
what if you could just
Just blink yourself away
Got some dreams to lose
got some to make
Want The American pie and
the chocolate cake
shaking the building just like a earthquake
I'm looking for the love bout to jack up the birth rate
I don't care what they think about me at all In the first place
Imma get it
Oh God
he doper by the minute
They pretending they don't like and they never admit it
But I'm spitting the goodness
Bullets you ain't forgetting
Ricochet of a knee
Settle inside of a hip and
I don't like guns I would rather smack a nigga lip
Life's hard
But this ain't even as hard as it get
Bout to feed a whole family from crumbling a brick
Living in the brick
get caught locked in the brick
Roxbury motherfucker with some confident kids
told em watch out
Cuz the Devil exists
They calling cops on you
for just trying to live
But I got love to give
tho they don't give it back
the hood is anywhere we're my niggas at
I saw him die
I seen em hit him with a bat
And nowadays I got problems knowing how to act
But Where the real niggas at
We in the time were been reading fake facts
My Sister where the vape at
Been sitting a Kia
dreaming of Maybach
Stay black
even threw the race attacks
music is the escape
But feels everybody feels trapped.

My head full of all these horrors
It's hard to think about tomorrow
And I can't let go
Black people
White
Brown people

And everybody in between
If you listening than you a dope fiend
you overdosing on a GLD king
I'm shooting bullets
You feeling angels approaching

Just think ....
what if you could just
just blink yourself away

I'm yesterday's brand new today
A bouquet of roses that's on display

I'm in the lights with a mic
cooking toupees
The front rows guzzling on the parfait
to many haters way to many suckers all day
I'm in the whip speeding along
The highway

Ready for the next gig
Looking for the exit
Destined for greatness
Years we invested
Every sentence of mine
is like a hidden message
Music for the world
So every dreamer can exist

They taking people's rights and their kids
I get harassed everywhere I live
You think my life is less than yours admit it
I gotta song gonna spit it
If I meet Rihanna imma try to hit it
hoping that my demons stay hidden
In jail their only begging for forgiveness
Going to church hoping
That god will come to visit
In my feelings
My mind is like a dirty prison

And ain't nobody want to listen
There's way to much division
everybody's morals went missing

I'm not the only one
my Papa taught me how to shoot a gun
Got dreams of shooting mine in the a stadium
Bullets
if I got a mic imma stay hunting
Chipping off flesh watching all the fools running
Like The police shooting with no Warning
they think we less than regardless
the streets out here so heartless
The gutter
Raised modern prophets
together tho they can't stop us
Black people
White people
Brown people
Straight people
Gay people
And everybody in between.

Written by:
Janos Fulop, Maurice Pope

Publisher:
Lyrics © Sentric Music

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