My ghetto gospel Those who wish to follow me I welcome with my hands And the red sun sinks at last Into the hills of gold And peace to this young warrior Without the sound of guns Uh, hit em with a little ghetto gospel If I could recollect before my hood

Boom, boom, boom, open the door, ATF Too late to send my girl downstairs to say he left Hit the basement, go through the replacement door Come up in my neighbor's yard, with a taste for war You know I laced the four, with the hollows Crack the safe, grab

Can I live 'til my last day Hittin' honies that be nasty Gettin' money in the fast way And I only care halfway But I still can't let you pass me Yo what's beef to you, three niggas with hoodies and bats That ain't shit compared to one small cat with gats

Disintegrate Annihilate me A sickness with no remedy, except the ones inside of me I’d take a leap of faith, but I’d lose my nerve In the end, I’ll get the hell that I deserve I’m always gone with the wind Crawling in and out of my mind God knows, I lost

Before you leave, you must know you are beloved And before you leave, remember I was with you Sit enthroned in white grandeur But tired and shift A whisper of wayward silver hair From your eyes I'd never seen you unkempt before As you whisper, "Darling

Known to have a little bit of beer with breakfast You can bet these boots have got a little used to Stomping on a hardwood floor And buying the bar another round of shots Close my tab and hit the parking lot I ain't afraid to take too many steps out of

Boy, oh boy I love ya when I fall for that But I'm weak, and what's wrong with that? One sip, bad for me One hit, bad for me One kiss, bad for me But I give in so easily And no thank you is how it should've gone I should stay strong I'm weak, and what's

Next thing we're touching Oh, everybody's starry-eyed Whoa oh oh ah ah And everybody goes And my body goes Whoa oh oh ah ah You look at me it's like you hit me with lightning Oh, oh, starry eyed

DTP we got them guns that go Yea I'm all about that pistol player, cold blooded killer Niggaz recognize my name, I dub the young dealer You better tell ya man that with the gauges I'm nice Ill shoot up y'all white shirts until y'all look like dikes But

With my hands gripped, praise the Lord shit Our father, if I should die before I wake Uh! Yeah, yeah Fuck 'em, yeah, uhh