[Verse 1]
All we got is us, in God we trust
This how the job sound when it's properly done
Imma only run this down to y'all cocksuckers once
I'm not to be touched
Like the oven top when it's hot without gloves
Wash up a scrub all you see is suds
You so dusty now that we done we gotta clean the tub (dirty niggas)
Steam from the gun released the wrinkles from your cheap-fitting tux
Talked so greasy, B, he was obviously drunk (must be fucked up)
Deep in the game, my Adidas is stuck
I'm no mind reader, my G, but I could see what's to come
When I spoke redeemed, this the holy Ghost cuz I believe I'm speaking in tongues
I'm leaving blood on the sheets I'm reading from
Bob and weave cause the key's not to get beat to the punch
Chop you though, all you see is pieces and chunks
Looking like the toppings you eat at pizza hut
Ain't no sweeping me under the rug like the secret you tucked (you ain't low)
You think it's love then motherfuckers sink their teeth in your grub (eat your food, nigga)
To keep it a buck I been greedy, I done feasted enough
Shots of tequila and Puerto Rican rum
Off the reefer I caught a decent buzz
The street I'm from, it ain't all peaches and plums
You either a bum or you keep what the fiends want in your sneaker tongue (uh)
[Refrain]
All we got is us
In God we trust, nigga
All we got is us
In God we trust, nigga
[Sample & Roc Marciano]
Somebody help me
(Lord) talk to 'em, shit realer than ever
Somebody help me
Let this shit breathe, please believe it
Somebody help me
(Uh) beautiful
Somebody help me
(Uh) build it up
Pimpstead, nigga
(Uh) Marcberg, nigga
(Uh) Nahimean?
I'm back bitch, I'm back in this bitch
And I'm mothafuckin', I'm flexin on these hoes (yeeah)
Pimpstead, nigga, let's go
[Verse 2]
They want the real back
Nigga that's real rap
Feel the wrath
Sprayed you with the blick, flip your raft
Shit made a big splash
Mad ripples in the river like when the wind bad
Listen kid I was chilling when I got wind of that
I had the window cracked, It's lit
Don't let the wind blow out the match
If we clash, bet you don't win no match
You can't do shit with me like a bitch with no ass
Off the rip to itch for them stacks that we had
The kid needed scratch like a Brillo pad
The bag look like a pillow fill with cash (stuffed it)
Puerto Romanos, wore the diamonds, three quarter water moccasins
I wore these to the Oscars, pimp
For these bottles I had an ostrich killed
The guts of the Mazzy was looking like chocolate milk (ill)
I'm keeping it funky like monkey lice
These little ugly motherfuckers don't want me to shine
Like the sun in the sky in summertime
That's forever not just some of the time
These other guys yet to even measure up to my thigh
Tryna thrive, I felt your funny vibe
You wonder where your underlings slide when the money dry
Caught 'em in Queens riding through Sunnyside
Shit they lucky they ain't on Sonny's side
They getting chicken it's not Kentucky fried, buddy
We make salah to be comfy but money's not my God
(We make salah to be comfy but money's not my God)
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