[Intro]

[Verse 1: Jay Gudda]
How many times you gonna fuck me up?
I've been taking it light, but now enough's enough
You gonna stab my back or gonna cut me up?
Please hurry it up, I got a nut to bust, and I'm sick of talkin'
Any more lip, you can kiss the coffin
Any more shit, you can lick the faucet
Talk to me, bitch, just skip the gossip, mister cautious
Everybody know I overthink the raps
I ain't droppin' nothin' with a finger snap
'Cause everybody think it's a thing to rap
But ain't nobody really wanna bring the crack
Where my thinkers at?
Everyone wake up and just smell the coffee
Sorry Double-A, I'm tryna tell the zombies
I keep hearin' everybody talk Givenchy
But back then you were Abercrombie
This is why you all make me sick
Bitch, take advice, or you can take the dick
My girl's a bird, I gotta raise the chick, and I hate the bitch
Don't like this shit, then don't play this shit
Everybody 'round here got a game to quit 'cause I came equipped
And me and my brother gonna pray for this, like
[Hook 1: Jay Gudda & Pastor Troy]
Dear God
Can you please help me tip the scale? (Yeah)
I know I gotta lock it down
And I know they wanna ship the bail (Yeah)
It don't take a lot to drown
But I'll do anything to prevail (Uh-huh)
I got a lot to prove and a lot to do before I kick the pail (Yeah)
But dear God
I don't wanna be around the game (Yeah)
And I don't like these rappers because everybody sound the same (Uh-huh)
But if you're by my side
I know that everything is bound to change (Yeah)
I think I found a lane (Hey)
Get the fuck from around the lames (Come on)

[Verse 2: Jay Gudda]
How many times you gonna lie to us?
I gave it a minute, but now time is up
You're all some bitches that still ride the bus
And tell your bitch I don't got time to fuck
And close the caption
I do not fuck with these local rappers
I do not trust any local rappers
And I am not just any local rapper, I chose a Jackson
Everybody else gotta play the back
Only one in my state that'll state the facts
I'm throwin' out bait for the snakes and rats
Every one of y'all fake, I don't take it back
And I came for blood
Don't like the flow, then come paint the rug
I don't like a hoe, but I date a ton
If you'd like to know, bitch, I ain't the one, and I hate the love
But I love the hate because it got me this
No pot to piss, but got lots of piff
Can't cop a brick, but I can top a fifth
My page nice, Stojakovic, no stoppin' this
Give a Rasta bitch whole lots of dick
I will not admit who really taught me this
But just know every night I pray to God for this
[Hook 2: Jay Gudda & Pastor Troy]
Dear God
Can you please help me tip the scale? (Yeah)
I know I gotta lock it down
And I know they wanna ship the bail (Yeah)
It don't take a lot to drown
But I'll do anything to prevail (Uh-huh)
I got a lot to prove and a lot to do before I kick the pail (Yeah)
But dear God
I don't wanna be around the game (Yeah)
And I don't like these rappers because everybody sound the same (Uh-huh)
But if you're by my side
I know that everything is bound to change (Yeah)
I think I found a lane (Hey)
Get the fuck from around the lames (Come on)

[Verse 3: Jay Gudda & Pastor Troy]
So, what the fuck is up? (Dear God, dear God)
What the fuck is up? (Dear God, come on)
Don't think that we're done 'cause we ain't though
We ain't done 'til I say so or Sue's son got a halo
I look into your face, see a rainbow
And lately I've been feelin' like Rambo
I rather sit in heaven than a Lambo
I'm nine eleven with the ammo
R-I-P to the fam though, killin' in camo
I'm the mothafucka that you hate to like
And you're mad as fuck, but you take the pipe
Say you baggin' up, but you ain't the type
Fuck famous life, I'm tryna change my life
You don't like this shit, then don't play this shit
Everybody 'round here got a game to quit
And me and my brother gonna pray for this