Where we at? 227
Yeah (50 Gwuap Ziploc)
Just wanna take time out to thank God
Mafia, what else?
Scarface the movie did more to me than the face mob
The Based God, work on the flow, told bro, "Don't quit your day job"
Thankful where I'm at, I could be back on that K pot
So every night I thank God, yeah, we gon' be straight, Taj
Pray to the great skies, all them flakes and them great pies
Take girlie down, pull up one, and then I face me a trey-five
If thirty ain't enough, brought the mini Drac' for the gate bobs
Y'all niggas better thank God, all we did was had the safe rise
Feelings I can't hide (I can't), I take pride
In pushing it to the limit while they fibbing, bold-faced lies (no faking)
Paid my dues, never went to church or paid tithes
But every day I thank God (I pray), no Mary J. Blige
A hundred guns, a hundred clips, niggas can't slide
It ain't wise to go against the grain if you ain't God
Niggas ain't gang, niggas ain't squad, quick to shoot
'Cause they can't squab, I thank God that I don't smoke no fake 'za
Still get work off my face card, could be behind them state bars (Blockworks)
Six-hundred-fifty K large, I ran more base than A-Rob (yeah)
In the field with the crimi', now I'm watching my J nod
I had to thank God, double drum in my AR (all praise)
After-market them switches, factories on the Bimmer (yeah)
Honeybun in my Goyard, ain't no pulling my ho card (skrrt)
Bro gon' do it for no charge, just for ups on the scorecard (grrt)
I had to thank God, all praise to the most high (let's get it)
Been multi-faceted since Manger on McNichols in my basinet (Big Bold)
Wrist would have a hundred 'fore I cash a check (yeah)
Ashy beck' was left on the plane, I let her have the rest (ayy)
She told me, "Baby, thank God, this shit A1 like you passed the test"
Smashed them grams, smacked the 'Rex, wrist a birdie plain (skrrt)
A baking soda, water, fire merge with 'caine (ayy)
Sending Chase with Fetti on that Jersey Train
I told my nigga, "Thank God that the feds ain't catch you dirty, gang" (where we at?)
In my hood, they know me as Lil' Mooch or Scurry James (Jack, Jack)
Before the perks of fame, nigga had to lay down that murder game (brrt)
Came a long way from air mattresses out them Section 8s
That's why I gotta thank God and pass around the collection plate
(Thank God)
Me and you got to step out back
Ay, it was just a misunderstanding
Uh-uh, no, it ain't, it ain't no misunderstanding
We can all be some fighting motherfuckers in here this evening
Bring it on, come on