morning mourning

Is this it, Priest? The Popes new army?
A few crusty bitches and a handful of rag-tags?
Now, now, Bill...
You swore this was a battle between warriors,
Not a bunch of Miss Nancies
So warriors is what I brought
A cold heart and a hot slug is not love
Them boysll pop up, leave you chopped up
Theres a lot of pussy niggas
But its not us
Got cuffed, why you think Im frontin in a drop truck
Grindin, I work real hard, it wasnt pot luck
Lotta work in the pot, couple niggas was shot up
The glorifying times or the horrifying crimes
But the more I see the soft shit
The more that Im inclined
To let the real niggas know its all about the shine
Let em get it in the sun, get your gun when the moon fall
Soon to tell the goons meet the Ghost by the pool hall
Cause when the rules get lost, its a fools fault
Take a smart man to get in on the smooth course
Singin you were never found by Lou Ross
Thinkin can I live? Now the crib got two floors
Cant snooze off, nor take my shoes off
Lotta niggas is rude, that shitll throw your mood off
Lotta niggas is cruel, tryna cut your fuel off
Watch your ride die, no jump for you
They aint pump you up
But I bet you they got a pump for you
Right here he said he would dump for you
Then he went and left you for death
They on hunt for you
Maybe you just blind
Or maybe you just fine with gettin lyin
Cause you pussyby design, what!
Mama told me to pray in the morning
Im stuck here in the place tonight
God forbid we dont make it to the mornin
In the rain that I die, could be found in my moms eyes
See the pain under her veil while she moaning
Dont wait to pray til the morning
Cause you may not make it home
Yeah, you die if you violate, eyes dilate
Knowing weed tryin vibrate
Thirty-eight in my size nines win the tri-state
Swim with the sharks, you a killa or you live bait
Considered a titan although Im only five-eight
Born in the jungle, made it out, I survived hate
Run with gorillas, bang my chest like Im a primate
Consider me a land pirate that knows the pie rate
Get lined without a ruler
Nine at your medulla for a lil bit of moolah
Found his body chopped up in mexico in the cooler
Right next to a shooter and his best friend
It aint chess but they put him in, check then
If you know the math on the wrath, he is less than
From the south side, better hustle on the west end
Pain and the stress gonna kill you if its kept in
Ghost nigga
Mama told me to pray in the morning
Im stuck here in the place tonight
God forbid we dont make it to the mornin
In the rain that I die, could be found in my moms eyes
See the pain under her veil while she moaning
Dont wait to pray til the morning
Cause you may not make it home