Let me sing my song, if you feel this shit, mothafucka sing along It's the Hood Pope, chain hang low, red rubies and the gold Young Trap Lord, feel your pain, I be down for my people Drinking Jesus juice, jeans hang low, red rubies and the gold
[Куплет 1] And we sick, cause we hurting Pull a chrome fifth when they murk them Them murked off an excursion All cause a nigga be lurking Big money shit we earning A bunch of hooligans need churching I'm the Hood Pope, these my children And I'll be their Donny McClurkin Gold teeth when I'm smirking Bunch of little kids running 'round need nuturing Lord know that I ain't really perfect All of these clowns run around this circus Lord please what is my purpose Besides fucking these Persians Popping these bottles and popping these models Please tell me where is the Sherman And I'm smoking my weed, put me in my zone Demons chasing me, cause they want my dome And I carry the heat, and I sleep with the chrome Cause I'm in some beef, and they want my dome
[Припев]
God say "Son, you don't wanna go down" Now you praying in that trap when you hear that gun sound
[Куплет 2] And I told you, told you time again That ain't you gon' find your friends You talking about you riding with them And fighting with them, those ain't your friends You dying, lying on cement, momma be crying "Don't take him!" Gotta be trying, but he said "I promise he won't, ever again" God, he was a little child, he was a good kid for a while He found the streets and then it got wild, God, I promise, never again God, he is my only child, please don't wake him so he smiles But all she hear is lonely sounds, now he won't talk ever again