Chuck Inglish - Good Friday lyrics

[Verse 1: Wally Left] Mags spinning like alpinas Keep a clean rag in case I ever have to clean the frame off I pull a hard right up on that boulevard Coke white grips like i'm pushing hard f** an ID. I'll slide the cops my rookie card It's World Series Wally Keep a girl with them curls with me Probably on them handle bars, and granted she swirled with the caucasian Probably why her mom's hate me, aw I tried to lock her with the charm But the way my halo's angled had her off safety I'm sorry Ms. Jackson I mean, she was clocking me at the party Ms. Jackson I mean, i'm a good kid don't disregard me Ms. Jackson Woah, woah, relax… no need for talks of Maury Ms. Jackson Damn, you stressing me This the Left side, Dre and Kendrick told y'all the recipe Women, weed, weather Lost angels earning their feathers it's heavenly Heard that the pure hearted who spent life pleasantly Get blessed with estates on top of the hills of Beverly That's why I ride on this dino with the gold mags I be steezin' in throwbacks Cuz my God I was thrown back when the homie got his dome cracked For flossing that new I just take the game that he taught me and I toss it to you [Chorus: Wally Left] Oh god! Is this the way to go God? I don't rep for much but this halo Don't stress for much but this herringbone Bearing my barren soul Catch flame for playing it cool You can't reach them gates from your stoop Can you reach them gates from your stoop? NAH [Verse 2] This the lost land of the angels with mangled wings Six fo's with a tank of dreams and thick hoes quick to scrape they knees Pitch forks is prodding at pedestals Knock you off to a block that's speckled with brimstone residue No reps is respectable It's either that or the narrow path Paved with halos that flaked to ash You can claim a state of grace o claim Stacy Dash The later comes with a Jason mask, a love that will eventually taint for cash And a vest fr them life or d**h games of laser tag Lifts in this m.A.A.d. city? The f** you mean? They lacing that It's devils in tailored suits rocking bezels and reagan masks See, n***as is either raising flags or raising eyebrows n***as is either taken aback or taken high, now Angels is forgin halos for us to sport All for aura and fashion Who give a f** though? We flourishing You want the herringbones equipped with stares from hoes? It's baritones in the packaging Careful how ya pick ya curses bro You can't come back from this [Chorus] [Verse 3] Drag the halo down to the collar Whipping an old school impala It's pimps holla'ing at hoes I'm twisting the knob on the radio I swear i'm disc jock in' Stop it at Nothin' But a G Thang "Live n***a, probably got your broad jockin' the slang" That's the song that he sang The tune that he rode to. I rock a gold chain never a gold tooth I bump Dre and Snoop never heard of the son of Olu It's like that Plain Janes and Sheranes on my ding-a-ling I'd never wife that Sold my soul so i'm never checking price tags Me and the homies is getting blowed like a fist full of dice at, casinos Cutla**es, regals. Buck at yo team fo' Not paying dues to them G.O.D.'s Serving the deacons and striking deals with P.O.'s Peace? The f** is that? We slanging pieces like hippies Stashed in the back of the hoopty's a f**ing mac And AK, and whatever else, just so long as justice is dealt Slid to the avenue felt A couple of eyes hawking. Bird n***as in my peripheral Finger twisting, acting egotistical Pull yo card like a dentist that's plucking yo wisdom tooth Only ignorance left in yo system Act accordingly. Black back and forth. Unfotunately *POP POP* and you fall over Jaws drop the pavement with the force of suicide jumpers falling from top floors You wake up at the golden gates Angels confiscate yo halo and place you at Satan's doors No complaints [Chorus]