Skip to content
Lyric
Dive
Public playlists
My playlists
Search
Sign in
Thank God
Don Q
Popularity · Low
+
Original
0
0
YouTube
Searching YouTube...
Lyrics
Original
Translation
Bilingual
(Honorable Court) yeah, Don
I just wanna thank God through the good and the bad
Come take a look at my past, I couldn't've passed with all these crooks in my class
Gotta roll with the punches, talkin' hooks and the jabs
I couldn't be last, road to riches, my foot on the gas (yeah-yeah)
They makin' more statements once you in the law station
My thoughts tainted, I could feel 'em at the door waitin'
This a cold day in hell if I run across Satan (what?)
Got me prayin' to the lord with my diamond cross hangin'
Get killed for a short payment, these niggas reckless and devious
Clear the scene, post up your body and make a meme of it
I dreamed about success and I made a couple promises (promises)
Get the bag and never look back, that shit was obvious (obvious)
You stay they say you dumb, leave out they say you hidin' (hidin')
50 left Queens, stacks stayed, and they bodied him (gang)
Mace left Harlem, Al stayed and they bodied him (yeah)
Niggas gettin' Shmurders, but look what they did to Bob and 'em (free 'em)
I speak to Rowdy time to time, he in good spirits (he in good spirits)
We got a classic for y'all, wait until the hood hear it (wait until the hood hear it)
I couldn't steer it, I'm watchin' my man cook up a hard piece
I'm takin' notes tryna steal his whip, like a car thief
You frauds sweet keep your advice, I'll never use it
My homie said he just wanna aim at your head and shoot it (boom)
He waitin' for the word, I'm 'bout to just tell him, "Do it" (do it)
I ain't petty, I'll make sure the caste get theraputed (yeah)
'Cause opportunity didn't knock, I picked the lock
Tornado gun, I could spin your block when I spin your block (brrt)
I sell chicken in Hell's Kitchen, it's well written (well written)
You either gon' be a dead victim or jail sentence (jail sentence)
Shells spittin', fuck rain, I let hail hit 'em
He survive, treat him like a dog, if he tell clip him
Shit that I'm rhymin' is deep, you see how I vibe to the beat
When Pop died, I was weak, for nights that I cried in my sleep
There was thoughts in my head, like damn homie, how could this be? (How?)
Went from starter on the team, now you just outta the league
Damn, and now you just outta the league
And just for you, I keep a trophy the rock on the sleeve (yeah-yeah)
Yeah