Dark Hearted Lyrics – Freddie Gibbs
Yeah (Yeah)
(Space Rabbit)
Yeah-yeah (Yeah)
Yeah-yeah
(Space Rabbit push a space coupe)
I pray the choppa never jam, homie (Yeah)
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (Yeah-yeah)
I pray the choppa never jam
.30, .30 in my hands
[?] on that ambulance
*** ain’t no solvin’ no murders, welcome to Murderland
Send a hit and scratch off a hit, ***, I’m the *** Man
Pray the Lord puts his hands on me
And I know I took a risk
All my enemies watchin’, they plottin’ plan on me
They go [?] dead homies
‘Cause how can a *** stand on it when it ain’t the truth
*** niggas run on me when it’s time to shoot
Motherfuck a friend, get them *** out my crew
I know you wouldn’t *** with me if I didn’t have no loot
‘Cause I’m the one that push a hard line
Tell me, boy, niggas [?]
If your stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide
Know some *** niggas that snitch, niggas on my [side?]
Still a rich *** with mob ties ’cause ***, we was locked in
Million six and my niggas didn’t want apartment
We was pushin’ that molly, powder and hard ten
Back when ***, they used to play with my heart then
Police might shoot me and *** me over my dark skin
Man, this game got me dark hearted
Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don’t get me started
I thought we was gon’ thug it out to the end
But I guess that *** just wasn’t on the plans
I pray this choppa never jam
.30, .30 in my hands
Shoot him if he ain’t DOA, we shoot up the ambulance
*** ain’t no solvin’ no murders, welcome to Murderland
Bulletproof my ***, they might hit it, ***, I’m the *** Man
Dead *** put his hands on me
I might pop another bottle and pour one out for your dead homie
Swear my friends turnin’ fed on me (***)
Man, they *** niggas might take a stand on me
But how can a *** stand on it when it ain’t the truth
*** niggas run on me when it’s time to shoot
She think I’m her man, baby, I’m just knockin’ boots
Tell me, boy, niggas [?]
If your stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide
Know some *** niggas that snitch, niggas on my [side?]
Still a rich *** with mob ties ’cause ***, we was locked in
Million six and my niggas didn’t want apartment
We was pushin’ that molly, powder and hard ten
Back when ***, they used to play with my heart then
Police might shoot me and *** me over my dark skin
Man, this game got me dark hearted
Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don’t get me started
I thought we was gon’ thug it out to the end
But I guess that *** just wasn’t on the plans
I pray this choppa never jam
I pray this choppa never jam
I pray this choppa never jam, homie
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (Yeah-yeah)
I pray this choppa never jam
I pray this choppa never jam
I pray this choppa never jam, homie
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (Yeah-yeah)
