Hail Olde Saint

Uh god aint usin preachers no more
Even durin biblical times he aint use preachers he used prophets

Only writin for the righteous when I write my songs
But even saints gotta right they wrongs

Saint

From all of America
To all over Africa
To all the peddlers
Every soldier that's baggin up
When opposition start trippin
That's what we packin for
Was never all bout the moolah
Cause we been havin dough for
Every single cent of pride
Make a dolla die
Quantify my quality
Like I don't qualify
You in the basin
Where I'm roasting raisins
Walter lee younger
Son of sun
Without the stagin
Promised my momma we would make it out
She said son we wasn't in it whatchu talkin bout
Didn't get it then think I got it now
Lose a single sense of love for every dolla found
Success expensive swear the cost tremendous
And I'm servin y'all wit love like I was playin tennis
I'm talkin nil I ain't givin zilch
I see that pressure you applyin but the job is filled
Life is a mystery full of histories
Tales of defeated told in the victories
Legends get narrower wit the mentionin
Gotta trump all my vices like I was pence and nem
Back against the wall we on the fence again
And this shit will spread if you don't fence it in
You'd think I had life from all this sentencing
Puttin buttons under bentleys like I'm Benjamin
Pushin 40 still pullin 40s
Nigga playin in the d like I'm berry gordy
Confederates want my freedom
I beat em like glory
Really heavy my defense
I outdo em wit scorin
Jordan Jeffrey I deserve a espy
Jagr on ice on my hip
A couple gretzkys
Trash bag on the cash
Hope that shit is hefty
Was born a genius and a lefty
I knew he would bless me

Saint



Credits
Writer(s): Gamoane Allen
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

Link