Voodoo

Dear lord help me forget all my sins, one minute I think I'm good
The next thing would be my death
Hit up J. Chet let them fuckaz know we next
We coming straight for the neck
We running up for them checks
Grab the AK, reload it and let it bang
Call your bitch mayday, cause she go down on me everyday
Fuckin spitting twisted lyrics to calm all my senses
Fuck a label, and a handout bitch we independent

A cold day is always feelin the same
In the house of pain, wait for habits to drain
Never let up, I always get up
And running thru the problems I deal with may be the same for you

Rather be alone, in my conscience for so long
As I sit in stone, I let my intentions be known
Blood curdling sour, cause I live by the hour
Only a minute to scour to find the source to empower

Yea yea yea yea

And bitch im dead talking
Dead walking on the set
Dripping wet coffin
Gone pull the Ak out the back
And get that bitch sparking
Gone switch the choppa
For the mac
And now your bitch jockin
The police ride around
All day chalking
But i just chalk it up
Dont give a fuck
Cause i aint talking
Aint it awful
How they sleeping on me
Im Posturepedic
I got pull with plenty bitches
They gone want me
Till they need me...
Ok...



Credits
Writer(s): Beau Holland
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link