Morning Mourning - Styles P, Oswin Benjamin

Bill «The Butcher» Cutting: Is this it, Priest?

The Pope’s new army?

A few crusty bitches and a handful of rag-tags?

Priest Vallon: 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 boys’ll pop up, leave you chopped up

There’s a lot of pussy niggas, but it’s not us

Got cuffed, why you think I’m frontin' in a drop truck?

Grindin', I work real hard, wasn’t pot luck

'Lotta work in the pot, couple niggas was shot up

The glorifyin' times or the horrifyin' crimes

But the more I see the soft shit, the more that I’m inclined

To let the real niggas know it’s all about the shine

Let 'em get it in the sun, get your gun when the moon fall

Soon I’ll tell the goons meet the Ghost by the pool hall

'Cause when the rules get lost, it’s a fool’s fault

Take a smart man to get in on the smooth course

Singin' You Will Never Find by Lou Ross

Thinkin' can I live?

Now the crib got two floors

Can’t snooze off, nor take my shoes off

'Lotta niggas is rude, that shit’ll throw your mood off

'Lotta niggas is cruel, tryna' cut your fuel off

Watch your ride die, no jump for you

They ain’t 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 on your death, they on the hunt for you

Maybe you just blind or maybe you just fine with gettin' lined

'Cause you pussy by design, what!

Mama told me to pray in the mornin' (To pray)

I’m stuck here in the place tonight (We been stuck up in this place tonight)

God forbid we don’t make it to the mornin'

In the rain that I died could be found in my mom’s eyes

See the pain that she feel while she moanin' (She moanin'-she moanin')

Don’t wait to pray 'til the mornin'-the mornin'

'Cause you might not make it home-make it home

Yeah, you die if you violate, eyes dilate

Blowin' weed tryna 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 I’m only five-eight

Born in the jungle, made it out, I survived hate

Run with gorillas, bang my chest like I’m a primate

Consider me a land pirate that knows the pie rate

Get lined without a ruler, a 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 ain’t chess but they put him in, check then

If you know the math on the wrath, he is less than

From the south side, but I hustle on the west end

Pain and that stress gon' kill you if it’s kept in

Ghost, nigga

Mama told me to pray in the mornin' (To pray)

I’m stuck here in the place tonight (We been stuck up in this place tonight)

God forbid we don’t make it to the mornin'

In the rain that I died could be found in my mom’s eyes

See the pain that she feel while she moanin' (She moanin'-she moanin')

Don’t wait to pray 'til the mornin'-the mornin'

'Cause you might not make it home-make it home

You might not make it home