Young Roddy - Black Jesus lyrics

[Verse 1: Young Roddy] I got money on my radar, I grind on my day off Got introduced to the block the day the boy got laid off Had a cherry red Monte Carlo, drove it like a race car Smoking like I'm Nate Dogg, I'm talking every day dog Quiet kid I never said much My uncle told me get paid and never take no pay cut Good times coming I told my n***a keep his head up Stack his bread up I said we all we got, he like "straight up" I brush my teeth, say my prayers when I wake up Do eat scrape the plate up, I'm shining like a Jacob Bring your A-game, my n***as rep the same gang Area tre one coming through like a freight train And I prefer Henney over champagne Route for president hold the world with my bare hands A trap [?] boy like Bob Marley It's money over b**hes, b**h be lucky if I call ya [Verse 2: Jamaal] From that penny in my loafers to this chip on my shoulder Feeling like f** yall, game over Playtime expired new sires Three kings, get cream spit fire Life goals is over right now life blows Hoes being hoes and n***as being n***as and Cops k**ing n***as man anything goes If you can't see that then your eyes wide closed I see a different world [?] Who you hotter than boy we hot as parliament Shout out miss [?] Made sure a n***a ate, made sure a n***a straight She throw seconds on your plate Any second, always early never late I seen the future, already we hella straight Sipping duce, levitate with the bouquet Yeah [Verse 3: Smizz] Represent that south side, the south side Said we coming from the south side, the south side sh** I'm a southern n***a Sometimes I buy things I don't even need Made sure there's dreads and gold teeth on my Jesus piece It's funny how we get gased up by whips and chains Cuz in our minds sh** we still slaves I've seen soles posed like Emily Rose in my hood It's a jungle out here, won't smell no rose in my hood Pizza man won't deliver no Domino's in my hood sh** we from where we from it's all good, what your life like? Two parent home a nice crib, everybody got separate rooms it's real space sh** My life like momma got 2 jobs we sharing bunk beds And our daddy ain't there, so sh** we get it how we live You better shape up, these young'uns out here will leave you taped up No barber shop tape up, they k** you over paper And I like whiskey over weed Make sure there's dreads and gold teeth on my Jesus piece Make sure there's dreads and gold teeth on my Jesus piece