God's Son
You play with me bitch I'm gon' scratch yo homie
I'm in Chicago with no ratchet on me
Thats how I know I'm God's son
I stand on business stand up 'til the job done
I got some vibes say they waiting on me
I'm actin deaf I heard he hating on me
I'm persevering always
Same nigga from back in them hallways
I bossed her up she used to think in small ways
You just a pet bitch I'm too big for small cages
These rapper niggas know I'm at they ball cap
I weep some fan in her that's when I fall back
They tryna blend like Waldos
These Forgiatos fuck you's what we call those
Want this and that and that and this
And all those
Don't ask me what I think of shit
I think these bitches all hoes
I still ain't touch the stash yet
Chicago dry I been fucked all the lash techs
Lapped a couple niggas and I ain't in my bag yet
I'm ready to put lil' shawty out
And she ain't even nagged yet
Four racks on my new shit
Eight racks on my last edition
I don't even wear my new shit
All these mother fucking bags I'm getting
Salty 'cause I ain't text her
Shut up bitch I'm glad I didn't
Everybody shake my hand
But some of these niggas they mad I'm winning
Park the V outside
Hit the flashers
We do dashes
They keep doing that shit they doing
'Cause they know you give passes
This shit I do it can't be taught
So I can't give no classes
They pulled the wool right over yo eyes
I see through it like glasses
You play with me bitch I'm gon' scratch yo homie
I'm in Chicago with no ratchet on me
Thats how I know I'm God's son
I stand on business stand up 'til the job done
I got some vibes say they waiting on me
I'm actin deaf I heard he hating on me
I'm persevering always
Same nigga from back in them hallways
I'm in Chicago with no ratchet on me
Thats how I know I'm God's son
I stand on business stand up 'til the job done
I got some vibes say they waiting on me
I'm actin deaf I heard he hating on me
I'm persevering always
Same nigga from back in them hallways
I bossed her up she used to think in small ways
You just a pet bitch I'm too big for small cages
These rapper niggas know I'm at they ball cap
I weep some fan in her that's when I fall back
They tryna blend like Waldos
These Forgiatos fuck you's what we call those
Want this and that and that and this
And all those
Don't ask me what I think of shit
I think these bitches all hoes
I still ain't touch the stash yet
Chicago dry I been fucked all the lash techs
Lapped a couple niggas and I ain't in my bag yet
I'm ready to put lil' shawty out
And she ain't even nagged yet
Four racks on my new shit
Eight racks on my last edition
I don't even wear my new shit
All these mother fucking bags I'm getting
Salty 'cause I ain't text her
Shut up bitch I'm glad I didn't
Everybody shake my hand
But some of these niggas they mad I'm winning
Park the V outside
Hit the flashers
We do dashes
They keep doing that shit they doing
'Cause they know you give passes
This shit I do it can't be taught
So I can't give no classes
They pulled the wool right over yo eyes
I see through it like glasses
You play with me bitch I'm gon' scratch yo homie
I'm in Chicago with no ratchet on me
Thats how I know I'm God's son
I stand on business stand up 'til the job done
I got some vibes say they waiting on me
I'm actin deaf I heard he hating on me
I'm persevering always
Same nigga from back in them hallways
Credits
Writer(s): Devontae Washington
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
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