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For The Soul
by
Mistah F.a.b.
Featuring(s) : Mozzy & OMB Peezy
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Lyrics
[Mistah F.A.B.] Rest in peace to the track You already know That's my nigga for live Fella Fella, what's happenin'? Uh Yeah, TT3 Thug Tears 3, uh [Mistah F.A.B.] My lil' nigga gotta pull twenty, he on his fifth hearse They ain't seen a nigga get stabbed on the fifth tear Lil' mama only 20 years old, she on her fifth kid Brodie said he start sellin' stones so he could switch gear Ain't no pork on my fork nowadays But I was raised off bologna sandwiches And Spam, that shit was scandalous Mama used to get so high, she started panicking When mama died, I went through depression, on some manic shit When you don't got no mama and dad, it's hard to manage, kid Even Stretch told the world it's hard to manage him Flashin' on my bitch, she swear I need anger management Ice City, yeah, North Pole, I'm from where Santa live It's a red apple bottom on these yellow banana kicks All my niggas got Dracos and kaydas with the banana clips Power life goals, plus I'm tryna flip a Phantom whip Dope like the J-A-C-K-A, and I'm rich First off, salute high to all my niggas that died Claim you a shooter, okay shooter, why you niggas ain't slide? I wanna send a shout out to all my brodies inside Locked down in the prison, keep your head up high To all my niggas sheddin' tears as they sit on they bunk Playin' this on the tier for the killers and punks If you blessed with a date, see you when you get home If you got life, this is thug therapy for the soul [Mozzy] Yeah, I know when the love real, I can feel it Feel my nigga's spirit, shit got me in my feelings Pull up to the churches just to check on Auntie Phyllis She love the fact her nephew really went and got that million Bokey on me, we don't post about it, we conceal it Carry port is stolen, but I bought it, I ain't steal it Get familiar with the killers while it's Gucci That's when that bag double back back, bitch, I'm bougie When that bag double back back, bitch, you bootsey I need a pair of bardi's, we gon' thirty up the ruccis Filipin' Barbie, pull a 'Rari out her booty Calamari and sushi for the shooters who on duty 'member all them trips we was takin' in Auntie hoopty? Hit the pen, turned the ski mask in, and snatched the coofy I miss you, real nigga, the streets'll never forget you My brother brother, PayPal number's never an issue That's word to mine First off, salute high to all my niggas that died Claim you a shooter, okay shooter, why you niggas ain't slide? I wanna send a shout out to all my brodies inside Locked down in the prison, keep your head up high To all my niggas sheddin' tears as they sit on they bunk Playin' this on the tier for the killers and punks If you blessed with a date, see you when you get home If you got life, this is thug therapy for the soul [OMB Peezy] I'm starvin', ain't had a meal in a minute Fifth time lookin' in 'frigerator, ain't nothin' in it Still wore my clothes from yesterday, then I cocked back my semi And hit the streets, I need to eat, so you can get robbed for a penny I just can't get right, a couple charges that's pending But I'd be damned if I let them crackers stop me from gettin' it But before I go out sad, I'd rather be sittin' At least I'll get three meals if I'm locked in a prison I told myself I'd be done robbin' on my last lick But I can't ask for help 'cause people be wantin' they ass kicked Grippin' that plastic 'cause right now I'm on my dick Even if I get a couple dollars, it's a hit At night I pray to God every one of my niggas make it Ridin' with that iron, 'cause my shine, they wanna take it Really from the mud, this shit too real for me to fake it Really from the mud, this shit too real for me to fake it, Peezy First off, salute high to all my niggas that died Claim you a shooter, okay shooter, why you niggas ain't slide? I wanna send a shout out to all my brodies inside Locked down in the prison, keep your head up high To all my niggas sheddin' tears as they sit on they bunk Playin' this on the tier for the killers and punks If you blessed with a date, see you when you get home If you got life, this is thug therapy for the soul [Mistah F.A.B.] Yeah, they'll never get over me Hear the voice and you know it's me At the function, you know we deep She'll never say no to me Thug Tears my diary, but I'll never be Jodeci I make the thugs shed tears off this project poetry These niggas sayin' that they thugs but they softer than flowetry See I'm a player, not a thug, but the thugs adore G This ain't Georgie Porgie, nah man, this a different tune Daddy shootin' hot, the fire from the lighter bit the spoon How I'm supposed to survive winter when clothes meant for June? Mama gettin' high so she sent me to a different room Mama on Whitney, daddy on Bobby I wasn't 'posed to make it, my story was meant to doom But this rose from the concrete had a different bloom Blast off like a rocket until I hit the moon Never take a bop to the house, we can get a room I'm not them, I'm him we some different dudes
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