Letra Flu Game - Jim Jones
God is good
Let the congregation speak
Uh, uh, uh
We still here, though
Through all the ups and the downs (It feel like church music)
Uh
It feel like church music, Curtis Mayfield (Woo)
Testimony of those that only murder and straight chill (Chill)
Where they live check to check, so for certain they don't make wills (Harlem)
Government assistance, so they ain't worried when they pay bills (Ooh)
Finessin' the connect, bird to bird off of fake bills ('Member that?)
Couple niggas dropped dead, I heard it was them fake pills (That fentanyl)
Feds dropped the charge, he still servin' in state still (He'll be home soon)
Niggas in my hood might serve you up a eighth still (No names)
Many nights, mama love wasn't there (Love you, mommy)
I'm not tryna say that that kind of love wasn't there (Huh)
But when they was cookin' up the base, all them drugs in the air (Woo)
With no food in the fridge, nigga, that grub wasn't there (I was hungry)
I don't know too many homies turned bangin' Blood a career (East side)
And bitch, I'm from Harlem, I was bangin' Blood everywhere (Cali, Miami)
Everywhere I was flamed up, like a slave, I was chained up
Stumblin' out the club, tell valet "Pull the Range up" (Where my truck at?)
Wasn't the type that you could send to the store (Never)
And bitch, when I drip, you know I might Fendi the floor (Mop that shit up)
Forty on the waist with F&N's in the car (Not slippin', shit)
Okay, okay
Pray for us, church (Okay, okay)
Okay-ayy-ayy
Come on, okay, okay, haha
C'est la vie, c'est la vie on the beach on Congolese
I'm smokin', lookin' for peace
I pray for the Middle East
Trini' gal, pretty face (Trini' gal)
She neat, like Mona Lis'
I spit and I release this venom between my teeth
Let the congregation speak
Uh, uh, uh
We still here, though
Through all the ups and the downs (It feel like church music)
Uh
It feel like church music, Curtis Mayfield (Woo)
Testimony of those that only murder and straight chill (Chill)
Where they live check to check, so for certain they don't make wills (Harlem)
Government assistance, so they ain't worried when they pay bills (Ooh)
Finessin' the connect, bird to bird off of fake bills ('Member that?)
Couple niggas dropped dead, I heard it was them fake pills (That fentanyl)
Feds dropped the charge, he still servin' in state still (He'll be home soon)
Niggas in my hood might serve you up a eighth still (No names)
Many nights, mama love wasn't there (Love you, mommy)
I'm not tryna say that that kind of love wasn't there (Huh)
But when they was cookin' up the base, all them drugs in the air (Woo)
With no food in the fridge, nigga, that grub wasn't there (I was hungry)
I don't know too many homies turned bangin' Blood a career (East side)
And bitch, I'm from Harlem, I was bangin' Blood everywhere (Cali, Miami)
Everywhere I was flamed up, like a slave, I was chained up
Stumblin' out the club, tell valet "Pull the Range up" (Where my truck at?)
Wasn't the type that you could send to the store (Never)
And bitch, when I drip, you know I might Fendi the floor (Mop that shit up)
Forty on the waist with F&N's in the car (Not slippin', shit)
Okay, okay
Pray for us, church (Okay, okay)
Okay-ayy-ayy
Come on, okay, okay, haha
C'est la vie, c'est la vie on the beach on Congolese
I'm smokin', lookin' for peace
I pray for the Middle East
Trini' gal, pretty face (Trini' gal)
She neat, like Mona Lis'
I spit and I release this venom between my teeth
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Get Money
FaceTime
You said I don't ever make time, You say I don't make time (You hear that right there? Diny made that, haha-haha), Oh, no, no-no, How I, I do the pussy, yeah, I spoil you, That's why you always pick up when I call...
Warzone
I grew up in the war zone like Iran, Never have I ran, Always had the metal hot like cast iron frying pan, Chilling my opp thot with a G Lock in her nightstand, I know I'm beyond em I get high like I'm buzz...
Genesis
In the beginning (It could be worse), God created Heaven and Earth, And the Earth was without form, a void (True fact), And the darkness was upon the face of the deep (Uh, Capo), Who is that? Jim Jones, Who is that?...
Make It Out
I see y'all at the crossroads, Meet y'all in gangster's paradise, S.I.P. to all my fallen soldiers, I'm gonna miss nobody, but we still pourin' liquor (Hitmaka), Jomo, This for all my dogs, they can't break me down...
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