Hymns

Son, his son, I wanted
His dad said he, we got a million dollar baby boy
That told me we wouldn't be sh-t
How'd that make you feel?
Filled me with rage

Look, there's not much these niggas could do with me
Could never be in my circle of trust if you're thinking foolishly
And usually, if they can't destroy the person you are
Then by far it wouldn't be hard to go
After that man that you used to be
I could tell y'all ain't used to me
And truthfully, whether the studio was treated acoustically
Every verse it'd be beautifully crafted
This Hall of Fame talent was never drafted

They look past it, now next to they company names an asterisk
I'm humbly named the last pick, feel bad for 'em
Shit, you remember a Tom Brady but
Forget all the teams that passed on him

And they ain't even ask for him
They say that you could possibly starve by looking ahead too quickly
I call that a fast forward
Or maybe a Lebron James, never wanted a star's fame
It never made sense, money comes and that's when it all changed
Damn, a prime minister ordained
Want more fame? Your fabulous life could turn into Paul Kane's
No disrespect, a brother for life but there's still a disconnect
'Cause I could lose my life for a stare so I can't miss a step

Yeah, this game of life, better learn it now
It's always the biggest rats with
These mouses moving the cursor 'round
Arguing if the Earth is round, these worthless clowns
Gotta be silenced, they need guidance
I'll cross that bridge when I burn it down
Yeah, don't turn your back on the truth, it'll never leave
You better breathe, you should face the music and turn around

Yeah, I'ma give you these ghetto hymns

40 Ounce bottles and leather Timbs, riding metal rims
Niggas gathering at them pearly gates, hope he let us in
Funerals, your clothes and your sneakers go to your next of kin

Damn, these ghetto hymns
Your friends help to even the score but pray that you never win
Stamps in the collection plate, wait, even a reverend sins
Watching the devil grin, damn, these ghetto hymns

I'ma give you these ghetto hymns

40 Ounce bottles and leather Timbs, riding metal rims
Niggas gathering at them pearly gates, hope he let us in
Funerals, your clothes and your sneakers go to your next of kin

Damn, these ghetto hymns
Your friends help to even the score but pray that you never win
Stamps in the collection plate, wait, even a reverend sins
Watching the devil grin, these ghetto hymns