God Forgives, I Don’t Lyrics – Hotboy Wes
Singer: Hotboy Wes
Title: God Forgives, I Don’t
Ayy, this lil’ night street hard hit, mane (KG made it)
This for every young n#gg# out there, mane
You hear me?
Put it in their motherf#cking face, n#gg#
For real
My lil’ brother rocking US but we wasn’t having Nikes
Grew up in the gutter, wasn’t no instruction, grew to sacrifices
High speed, ain’t have the lights (Skrrt)
White folks gon’ extra dictament
p#ss# b#tch ain’t never write me
Locked down, I’m letter writing
Thousand push-ups every night, thought I hurt them hoes feelings (Feelings)
Waiting on parole, staring at a closed ceiling (Ceiling)
Sleepin’ on my momma couch, was thinkin’ ’bout a million (Million)
Residue on my clothes, sellin’ ‘bows out a building
Record label just called, they want to see me in New York (Yep)
Creepin’ like I’m from Cali, I’m pimping b#tches like Too Short (Crip)
Posted up the ally, putting PCP on my new boys
b#tches, they used to dog me
I’m ballin’ like it was two courts
Nawfside, thuggin’ like New Orleans in the ’90s (Wah)
Grew up on BG, had a BB gun in my diapers
Stay up like thirty-three, when I had to sleep with the lifers
If a n#gg# play me, knife ’em
That sh#t turned me to a tiger (Grrr)
Heart barley beating from the betrayals and the stab wounds
Late nights with great whites, been posted up since past noon
Gave my dog fifty, ain’t seen my lil’ n#gg# since last June
Slide me up at eleven, brought a weapon to my classroom
Ever since a toddler age, I promise it’s been turbulence (Turbulence)
Opps said they gon’ stop my days, they promise they gon’ murder men (Murder)
Ain’t with all that dissin’, you can miss me with that verbal sh#t
Choppa sticks on a mission, spin his trenches with some urgency (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
Young n#gg# trappin’, if you trappin’, trap yo’ #ss off
Young n#gg# jackin’, if you jackin’, jack yo’ #ss off
Free Bandz in my Gucci (Gucci’s), think I’m Future with my mask off
Never gave a f#ck about no music, I’ll crash out
Throwing up my section in a another n#gg# trenches (Trenches)
Rock out with that Glock out, I’m like Popeye on the spinach (Spinach)
b#tch, I’m really from the trenches, don’t do it for no image
Opps out, they know where we be spinnin’
Glock .9 in my Givenchy (Baow, baow, baow, baow)
Y-y-young n#gg# trappin’, if you trappin’, trap yo’ #ss off (Trap)
Young n#gg# jackin’, if you jackin’, jack yo’ #ss off (Come here)
Free Bandz in my Gucci, think I’m Future with my mask off
Never gave a f#ck about no music, I’ll crash out (Quit)
I-I-I crash out
Ayy, and you n#gg#s know where to find me at, n#gg#
You hear me?
Right across the creek, n#gg#
On my momma, n#gg#, Green Stone Pound, n#gg#
Yeah, four pistol, no pistol, n#gg#
Yeah, n#gg#, you got a whole football team
n#gg#, I’ll be one D
You hear me?
On my momma
Still gon’ lay dead in the street, behind that sh#t, n#gg#
On my momma, n#gg#
Yeah
God forgive, I don’t
p#ss# #ss n#gg#
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Lyrics Hotboy Wes – God Forgives, I Don’t
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