Disciple
Yo yo yo
Yo yo yo!
Yeah
Yea uh
Son of gun, son of a God yes
I'm just struggling with complications of heartless -
Ness, Then I got it back and now its on my sleeve
But the shit was turned black cause I was so deceived
Always wanted to do this spittin'
Flows so pristine
I tried to look up to the rappers
But they so misleading
And so I start to tell my story just for closure see
Somehow the money power and respect got close to me
So now I gotta keep a watch how you approachin' me
Bitch ain't no tellin' what I said or what you know of me
I be talkin' in prose they think it's poetry
I be talkin' poems somehow they know it's me
See welcome to the gunshine state
Where murder could happen
Bitch could get away and a bitch could get off
It's like these bitches gettin off
On substandard living at higher cost
Its riveting just the thought
I'm militant cause it's awful to live in this shit lost
My vision is be the boss but still independent
Still in the trenches reapin' the cost
And benefit of this art
So, for you niggas thinkin' this shit just talk feel my pain
Ain't tongue wrestlin' I can't be bothered
Okay you fly but nigga I'm outchea chartered
Moms and pops made love by the sequoia
So either the boy is sick or he really needed some borders
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggle and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Son of gun son of goblin
Son in the ghetto he close to robbin'
Not in proximity but the thoughts that cloudin'
His truer judgment cause he ain't close to nobody
He gotta gun but no he ain't got no bodies
Live in the slums but know he live in a project
Where they project hopelessness onto progress
Know it's hard to digest even harder to digress
All this shit toxic but it's all in your mindset
You better try reps before you try to find rest
You better find ya best before you try to find a blessing
All this shit a contest when you dealing with congress
The enemy want you to feel unaccomplished
And consciousness is not cleaning your conscience
It's not dealing with your heart and all of its inner content
So I'on do this shit to have no content
I'on do this shit to have no sponsors
I do it cause I'm bonkers and they feel it out in Yonkers
To them niggas riding on Tonkas down south
Wishing for encores
What you ask for will find it's way to haunt you
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggles and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games but
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Son of a god he breathe from his art
Leave em the stars to lead em
They need to leap believe in they heart
See from the start they sing to these fiendish thoughts
But reason would keep them grounded
So they could see the true spark
They could choose god and what they thinks a facade
And what they think of as hardship
When they just think from they hearts
This is the harvest, everyone grows a garden
So you get to decide if its medicine or poison
Yeah son of gun son of God yes
I just write all these songs for all the godless
I just write all these poems for all the heartless
To all of those niggas that feel discarded
Welcome to the gunshine state
Where drops and burglaries increase the crime rate
Looking for dinner you can be the entree
Have yo body cold chilling like Roxanne Chante
And the government been hacking since damn myspace
Whats a Judas to a Pontius Pilate
What's a preacher if he got the line waiting
Church started two hours ago oh am I late
Know I already graduated
Know you can get through anything if they mad you made it
Thats that Phil Jackson playlist
And its the last dance for all these rappers ain't it
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggles and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Yo yo yo!
Yeah
Yea uh
Son of gun, son of a God yes
I'm just struggling with complications of heartless -
Ness, Then I got it back and now its on my sleeve
But the shit was turned black cause I was so deceived
Always wanted to do this spittin'
Flows so pristine
I tried to look up to the rappers
But they so misleading
And so I start to tell my story just for closure see
Somehow the money power and respect got close to me
So now I gotta keep a watch how you approachin' me
Bitch ain't no tellin' what I said or what you know of me
I be talkin' in prose they think it's poetry
I be talkin' poems somehow they know it's me
See welcome to the gunshine state
Where murder could happen
Bitch could get away and a bitch could get off
It's like these bitches gettin off
On substandard living at higher cost
Its riveting just the thought
I'm militant cause it's awful to live in this shit lost
My vision is be the boss but still independent
Still in the trenches reapin' the cost
And benefit of this art
So, for you niggas thinkin' this shit just talk feel my pain
Ain't tongue wrestlin' I can't be bothered
Okay you fly but nigga I'm outchea chartered
Moms and pops made love by the sequoia
So either the boy is sick or he really needed some borders
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggle and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Son of gun son of goblin
Son in the ghetto he close to robbin'
Not in proximity but the thoughts that cloudin'
His truer judgment cause he ain't close to nobody
He gotta gun but no he ain't got no bodies
Live in the slums but know he live in a project
Where they project hopelessness onto progress
Know it's hard to digest even harder to digress
All this shit toxic but it's all in your mindset
You better try reps before you try to find rest
You better find ya best before you try to find a blessing
All this shit a contest when you dealing with congress
The enemy want you to feel unaccomplished
And consciousness is not cleaning your conscience
It's not dealing with your heart and all of its inner content
So I'on do this shit to have no content
I'on do this shit to have no sponsors
I do it cause I'm bonkers and they feel it out in Yonkers
To them niggas riding on Tonkas down south
Wishing for encores
What you ask for will find it's way to haunt you
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggles and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games but
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Son of a god he breathe from his art
Leave em the stars to lead em
They need to leap believe in they heart
See from the start they sing to these fiendish thoughts
But reason would keep them grounded
So they could see the true spark
They could choose god and what they thinks a facade
And what they think of as hardship
When they just think from they hearts
This is the harvest, everyone grows a garden
So you get to decide if its medicine or poison
Yeah son of gun son of God yes
I just write all these songs for all the godless
I just write all these poems for all the heartless
To all of those niggas that feel discarded
Welcome to the gunshine state
Where drops and burglaries increase the crime rate
Looking for dinner you can be the entree
Have yo body cold chilling like Roxanne Chante
And the government been hacking since damn myspace
Whats a Judas to a Pontius Pilate
What's a preacher if he got the line waiting
Church started two hours ago oh am I late
Know I already graduated
Know you can get through anything if they mad you made it
Thats that Phil Jackson playlist
And its the last dance for all these rappers ain't it
It ain't hard to feel my pain
The struggles and the gains
Searchin' through my heart
Looking out for change
Hard to get a check
Tryna fix my brain
Momma cried tears
When she heard the angels sang
Say her boy might be in trouble
I say fuck not again
Hoping they can save me
Pray I'm not in vain
I was tryna be a boss
Not play in these games
Niggas try to arrange the rules
And fix it how they can
Credits
Writer(s): Lance Markeith Felton, Motion Picture Records, Track Pros
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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