Hood Pope

Let me sing my song, if you feel this shit, mothafucka sing along

This the hood pope, chain hang low, red rubies and the gold

Young trap lord, feel your pain, I be down for my people

Drinking Jesus juice, jeans hang low, red rubies and the gold

And we sick, cause we hurting

Pull a chrome fifth when they murk them

Then murk off in excursion

All cause a nigga be lurking

Big money shit we earning

A bunch of hooligans need churching

I'm the hood pope, these my children

And I'll be their donnie mcclurkin

Gold teeth when I'm smirking

Bunch of little kids running 'round need nuturing

Lord know that I ain't really perfect

All of these clowns run around this circus

Lord please what is my purpose

Besides fucking these persians

Popping these bottles and popping these models

Please tell me where is the sherman

And I'm smoking my weed, put me in my zone

Demons chasing me, cause they want my dome

And I carry the heat, and I sleep with the chrome

Cause I'm in some beef, and they want my dome

God say "son, you don't wanna go down"

Now you praying in that trap when you hear that gun sound

And I told you, told you time again

That ain't you gon' find your friends

You talking about you riding with them

And fighting with them, those ain't your friends

You dying, lying on cement, momma be crying "don't take him!"

Gotta be trying, but he said "I promise he won't, ever again"

God, he was a little child, he was a good kid for a while

He found the streets and then it got wild; God, I promise, never again

God, he is my only child, please awake him so he smiles

But all she hear is lonely sounds, now he won't talk ever again