Intro:
Chuurrrrrch, woorrrrrrd)
Uh, uh, uh, uh, uh
Uh, uh, uh, uh
Keep it real witcha, uh
Church Street ya'll, and it don't stop
To the beat ya'all, and it don't stop
Church street y'all uh, uh, uh, uh
Church street y'all, and it don't stop
To the beat y'all, and it don't stop
We tryina eat yall, and we won't stop
Uh, yeah!
015, GY, Ironville, Saleville
Church Street
Word
Verse 1: [Trav]
I'll keep it real witcha
I'm from the place where only thugs get richer
Dog eats dog, that's the only way it gets bigger
Broken homes and rusty frames, and we still picture
Getting outta this rigour plight as soon as our pockets vigour
I used to roll with the neighbourhood bullies
Flex like Boogie, make adults crumble like cookies
You know, we'd rock the same apparel and our minds were parallel
I'm still crew with a few, but I don't know where the others went
They pro'bly somewhere doing time or getting dough
When you from this walk of life, those the only paths you know
Each day had to overhaul my calibre for survival
Even had to learn to draw my guns quicker than my shadow
And just k** sh**
And I just think that was given
Cos my talent is definite and my sk** is infinite
And lyrically I've been gifted before the continents shifted
And even when I'm in my grave I'm pretty sure I'll still kick it
Hook:
(Churrrrch. Woorrrd.)
Church street, ya'll! And it don't stop!
To the beat, y'all! And it don't stop!
Verse 2 [Trav]
I'm extraordinary, the guns in my jeans are not only necessary
All my uncles been through it, trust me man its hereditary
Seen one get gunned in the liquor store, sh** just made me
Realise like a legacy, these guns I gotta carry on
If I'm Serious about my plan to thrive
Blow up in this land and get what's rightfully mine
Dreams of owning all the money like a Rothschild
Now I'm a man, gotta make my pockets expand like time
So I stay on my watch
And if you run into my crew you better pray to God
We'll make you question his existence and rob you for all you got
We know what we doing is wrong but we don't care about your rights
Cos the government don't seem to care about us either
And God must have grew tired of us like the preachers
We crucify their logic for tyina tell us 'bout Jesus
Cos in Praxis, his scriptures don't put no food in our stomachs. What!
Hook:
Outro:
(Poem from Zeitgeist documentary)