Hold up, I ain't trying to stunt, man
But these Yeezys jumped over the Jumpman
Went from most hated to the champion god flow
I guess that's a feeling only me and Lebron know
I'm living three dreams:
Biggie Smalls', Dr. King's, Rodney King's
Cause we can't get along, no resolution
Till we drown all these haters, rest in peace to Whitney Houston
Cars, money, girls and the clothes
Aww man, you sold your soul
Naww man, mad people was frontin'
Aww man, made something from nothing
Picture working so hard, and you can't cut through
That can mess up your whole life, like an uncle that touched you
What has the world come to, I'm from the 312
Where cops don't come through and dreams don't come true
Like there the god go in his Murcielago
From working McDonalds, barely paying the car note
He even got enough to get his mama a condo
Then they ran up and shot him right in front of his mom
40 killings in a weekend, 40 killings in a week
Man the summer too hot you can feel it in the street
Welcome to Sunday service if you hope to someday serve us
We got green in our eyes, just follow my Erick Sermon
Did Moses not part the water with the cane?
Did strippers not make an ark when I made it rain?
Did Yeezy not get signed by Hov and Dame?
And ran to Jacob and made the new Jesus chains?
In Jesus' name, let the choir say
"I'm on fire, ay," that's what Richard Pryor say
And we'll annihilate anybody that violate
Ask any dope boy you know, they admire 'Ye
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