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Tru

The Lord is Testin Me

  rap  hip hop  hip-hop  new orleans  no limit
305,00 прямо сейчас

Текст песни Tru - The Lord is Testin Me

Tru - The Lord is Testin Me слова песни




I think the lord is testin meWhatzup yall, hello world, this c-murderIm bout to put you in the mind of a crazyFucked up in the head muthafucka (this nigga sick)You know what Im sayin? One of the muthafuckas you see in theNews everyday, for doin all types of crazy shitChorus: master pSometimes, I think the lord is testin meBut Im a tru niggaI cant let none of these niggazAnd bitches get the best of me(repeat 4x)[c-murder]Muthafuckas just dont understand the shit that I be goin throughI wanna kill myself, but I know, I gots to stay truBe gettin my fuckin hustle on, and stack my fuckin dividendsCuz if I aint got no money and Im broke, fuck friendsI feel like, Im paralyzed cuz my own baby, wont hug meMy momma, wont let me in the house cuz she talkin boutShe scared of meThe only reason I sell drugs is surviveThe only reason I kill, is to stay aliveIm constantly watchin my back cuz playa haters act like hoesBut they dont wanna fuck with me cuz I turn bustas into john doesIm not a role model so keep your kids up out my faceTalkin bout, Im sellin drugs aint doin nothinBut killin, my own racePolice cant catch me, betta kill me, aint gon let em arrest meThey dont, understand I draw my nine faster than jesseIve been know to have a temper, and I click quick, like thisBefo I was crazy, but now Im strapped and Im sick187 killin murders a hobbyThank god, this be the charge, six counts armed robberyBack in the free world same shit, (aint gon change)Call v, say he got weed, but fuck, I need clothes manDamn, shoud I get that ski mask g? Should I rob him, try to get a job? Damn, the mans testin meChorus x2[silkk]I keep visualizin jail cells, and closed casketsPut a credit to the grave he blastinFill my coffin laughin, chewin tobacoIm just a gangsta livin day to day, tryna surviveTry to stay high to realize why my homies out there dieNow why you keep on testin me, sendin these cops to arrest mePut me in bad situations, but I wont let life, get the best of meI was born in a fucked situation, but Im not a born killaBut Ive seen some shit in my time, that escaped a grown niggaWonder if, its a test, see how much I could hold up on my shoulderT-r-u cross my stomach, on my back, a fuckin soldierIt just dont seem right, it just dont seem rightThe shit a nigga go through, makin me wanna scream like mikeIt stresses me, its only after thisI wants to know, if its a in if I kill a nigga, over self-defenseMost of my people dont like meAnd a lot of em cant stand meBut I wonder if its a sin if I kill and rob to feed my fuckin familyIts suvival of the fittest, you be my witnessI dont give a fuck about the moneyCuz I cant take none of that shit with meIf its a test, then let me knowBut if its my time to go then let me go. amenChorus x2[master p]My record went gold, my family started money trippinI could look into the eyes of a nigga that wants to catch me slippinSomebody hollered "dont go out like tupac!"That be the same nigga tryin to fill me up, with buckshotsThe game get dirty thats why Im blastinIts plenty niggas out there wanna see the p, in a casketThats why they spread rumors, lies, I diedNiggas dont wanna see another nigga get a piece, fo the fuckin pieMy friends trippin cuz I got endsNiggas dont wanna see a black nigga rolin, in a fuckin benzMy old lady say Im stuck upI got to sleep with one eye open, this whole world is fucked upGot me poppin donoAsk bo but he dont know what p know about the ghettoYou aint got no dollars, you got no friendsIf I go to jail how many yall niggas gon visit me in the penBut if I die it be a million niggas at my funeralThey wanna see me knocked out like tyson, did brunoIf I wear red or a blue, then Im a gang bangaIf I make gangsta rhymes, huh, then Im a dope slangaEvery nigga I used to know that didnt make itThink I owe em somethinEvery nigga I know in the ghetto, huhAsk me to front em somethinMy own company, niggas, want me to sign them upThey dont think I could work for this shitAnd how hard it take to come upThey too busy, throwin tesses (tests)Got me strapped with pistols wearin bullet proof vesses (vests)Every hoe I fuck, hope the rubber popThe media spread rumors I smoke too much weed,I guess they wanna see me smokin rocks.Heh, I think the lord is testin meEither this a bad dream or my fuckin mind messin with me

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