Текст песни Come Home To God - Amaarae

Wasted, gotta call a friend to come running
Laced it, just a little blow in the money
Denim Louis bag and a 2000 Impala
I just popped a tag on a bitch to make her mama

Alimony Ama, got her for the drama
She out with her shottas
She taste a bit and take it how she wanna
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it

Alimony Ama, get it from her mama
She out with her shottas
She taste a bit and take it how she wanna
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it

Break it down, buss it on the pole
Money on the floor
Come on home to God
Come on home to God
And shе want it, want it
And she want it, want it

Break it down, buss it on the polе
Money on the floor
Then come on home to God
Home to God
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it

Shawty say she love me like she love the Lord
When I'm in that pussy, I'm above the law
If I had the world, I still would end it all
Thousand and one reasons not to get involved

I'ma call my ex and say I love her in the past tense
Drinking from a fountain, she anoint me like a pastor
Triple-winged angel 'bout to turn me to a bastard
Devil doing favors that a nigga never asked for

Break it down, buss it on the pole
Money on the floor
Come on home to God
Come on home to God

Break it down, buss it on the pole
Money on the floor
Come on home to God
Home to God
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it

And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it
And she want it, want it