Fat Joe - Preacher On A Sunday Morning lyrics

Kilka, k**s mania Get used to this one "Crack" Scotty Oh yeah I'm back on that sh** And I say right about now New York City They say is life and d**h, there's no future fronting I see a mac and a tec keeping duz coming Coka Joe is a fake Cartagegna Nice with the hands better with the banger Guns I'm no stranger Keep an A.K when I battle probably throw a fake n***a parade. I'm known! But who gives a f** I don't care Don't lead them let the welfare feed them n***as had me thinking that Joey is f**ed up! Skiddles with the maybachs banging rooftops Life s**s for you maybe the Jew is crazy In the stay pieces to d**h thanks to who baby [Chorus:] Stay cleaned up on a preacher on a Sunday morning, I got cake but I need more ice and all I say off the streets I'm a symphony, n***as want my sympathy presiding official remedy Stay cleaned up on a preacher on a Sunday morning King of New york, King of New York, but we don't ever see these n***as up in New York Can anybody tell me where is San Tropez All these so called k**ers try their best to dress gay Everybody beefing it's the same old day All these mix-tape rappers now want to claim king Everybody saying they are bringing New York back But we the only n***as you pitch back the back(crack!) You hear the echo, son of a nesto I'll let the tec blow You should feel sky plenty like pistol, f** a phone call I barely got a whistle [Chorus:] Coka, there's no one harder Get off your knees get a job at the Carter Throw a banks and invite your friends You guarantee to see a couple of ends See I've been getting money since who knows when These other n***as just all pretend You've been bamboozled diz duzu say thugs Love at Madison Square they givin' group hugs Now let me take you to the streets of darkness Where I keep your favorite M.C. underneath my armpit the bronze kid I'm only speaking the truth sh**, look what these streets May cologilua do [Chorus:]