Lord Have Mercy - Sean Price, Rim P, Vic Spencer

I’m sick of all the rumors

Gun smoke, son choke, the Heimlich Maneuver

The nine spit, the Ruger, the prints is wiped

And then thrown into the drain 'cause the game played right

I’d rather box, but I’ll shoot your ass

Gang leader, say, «Do it,» and niggas do it fast

I rap all the time

And when I’m not doin' that, then it’s back to the crime

The truth, the autobiography of

A nigga from Brownsville, black glove on the snub

Yawdy boys spliff green

Had me lookin' clueless, Hardy Boy mystery

Hakuna matata, no plans to shoot ya

King of the apes and the papes, Mansa Musa

I know the streets down pat, I’m unaware

I once sold crack in Delaware, truth

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy

Thou shalt not get fronted work he can’t get rid of

Black glid-doves'll be the holder for your killer

Flow, no Brita, culprit, a coldness

Raw rap stick to the ribs, good for some porridge

Express life, item ready, my tribe ready

We ride steady, tryna belly this confetti

Sharp as a machete, niggas suffer from bluffin'

Fallin' for temptations and turn Ruffin

I get it in on sight like Visine

No dry scenes, the words you utter is vice dreams

Fifth tucked, like a seal liquor, I flea flicker

The blicka after the hit up and sell it to a dumb nigga

It’s a cycle, they scope to see you for a rifle

Seems the ones tellin' the lies, you wanna idol

It’s a thin line with love and gettin' mine

So that metal get tow trucked, everybody get fined

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy

I just got through boxin' a panther

Cold cut bow, stuff the face of your grandpa, nigga

You might as well go and get you a day job

Stop rappin', slap you at the movies, I’m not actin'

The coldest rapper in Chicago, homie

Creep mode, speak flows in the all black Suaconys

You niggas not my homies, better call the god upstairs

Spit bars at your heart, you fall right there

The heaviest, deadliest, trimmed all the fat on the petty

I’m Dante Gabriel Rossetti

The microphone is a machete

Nigga can’t break a bank but I can break a levee

I’m different like bringin' fried chicken to a fish fry

You don’t have a bite like a mothafuckin' crane fly

Lord have mercy on their souls

Read the rest of my bars in the Dead Sea Scrolls

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have mercy, lord have mercy

Lord have a mercy, lord have mercy