Hymns
[Verse]
Look, it's not much these niggas could do with me
Could never be in my circle of trust if you're thinking foolishly
And usually, if they can't destroy the person you are
Then by far it wouldn't be hard to go after that man that you used to be
I can tell y'all ain't used to me
And truthfully, whether the studio is treated acoustically
Every verse'll be beautifully crafted
This Hall of Fame talent was never drafted, they look past it
Now next to they company name's an asterisk
I'm humbly named the last pick, feel bad for him?
Shit, you remember a Tom Brady
But forget all the teams that passed on him
And they ain't even asked for him
They say that you could possibly starve by looking ahead too quickly, I call that a fast forward
Or maybe a Lebron James, never wanted a star's fame
It never made sense, money comes and that's when it all changed
Damn, a prime minister ordained, want more fame
Your fabulous life could turn into Paul Cain's
No disrespect, a brother for life but it's still a disconnect
'Cause I could lose my life for a stare, so I can't miss a step
Yeah, this game of life, better learn it now
It's always the biggest rats with these mouses moving the curse around
Arguing if the earth is round, these worthless clowns
Gotta be silenced they need guidance, I'll cross that bridge when I burn it down
Yeah, don't turn your back on the truth, it'll never leave
You better breathe, you should face the music and turn around
[Chorus]
Yeah, I'ma give you these ghetto hymns
Forty ounce bottles and leather Timbs, riding metal rims
Niggas gathering at them pearly gates, hope he let us in
Funerals, your clothes and your sneakers go to your next of kin
Damn, these ghetto hymns
Your friends help to even the score, but pray that you never win
Stamps in the collection plate, wait, even the reverend sins
Watching the devil grin, damn, these ghetto hymns
I'ma give you these ghetto hymns
Forty ounce bottles and leather Timbs, riding metal rims
Niggas gathering at them pearly gates, hope he let us in
Funerals, your clothes and your sneakers go to your next of kin
Damn, these ghetto hymns
Your friends help to even the score, but pray that you never win
Stamps in the collection plate, wait, even the reverend sins
Watching the devil grin, these ghetto hymns