Ghetto Gospel Song Lyrics

And I'm sitting on the edge of my bed holding my head
Trying to make this cake like a baker
And get some bread
My mama said hustlin' does come with feds
Time do the crime you better had be prepared
For what comes with it the killing the court convictions
Snorting, bitches, the snitches often they get acquitted
While the real sent to prison, to rot away while they living
And all because I say dope shit they on a mission

To nail my black ass to the wall with a conviction
I pray the Lord hear me but really Lord is ya listenin'
Praying when I'm in trouble I'm speaking with forked tongue
I say I'm out the game but I'm flinching like George Jung
I must be in the clutches of Satan it's all warm
My mama took you to the "root lady" to read my palm
She puts beads on my neck saying they protecting me from harm
But fuck this old witch, I went and got a gun

Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Jesus, glory
Oh Lord
Oh Lord

Looking at the bezel of my Breitling
Thinking that I used to sell raps for enlightenment
But I got lapped by them guys selling lies for the white man
Now I sell pies for the white man
And my tour bus is a moving indictment