Pray for Me (feat. YFN Lucci)

Chorus: YFN Lucci Yeah, from the cracks and the holes in the pavement Ain't no hope for the youth, Lord, save me Gotta smile through it even though you hate it All I ask is that you pray for me Verse 1: YFN Lucci You know we always payin' attention Always out handlin' business Niggas in they feelins Certain shit can't be given I'ma go and get it, yeah Niggas got they hand out, shit, that ain't the way we livin', yeah That ain't the way that I pictured thirty hoes and ten of us niggas See, that's the way we kick it Twetny of us, and ten of us probably got an extension Everybody playin' broke 'cause they think I can fix it Everything that you got, that shit probably rented I know my partners wit' me Ain't no stoppin' this shit, the sky is the limit, yeahh Break: YFN Lucci Who gon' ride wit' me Aye, who gon' ride wit' me Yeah, death before dishonor but you lied to me, dang Verse 2: T.I. Made it to the top from the gutter Promisin' the hood I came from it'll never be another, yeah Remember trappin' in the hood, duckin' under cover Buyin' hard ounces for my momma brother Tryna block mine, boy, you get knocked out, hah I'm wit' the shit you know that you are not 'bout Old nigga wit' some long money Nigga try me, I'ma get it all from ya Listen, I ain't worried 'bout the small run it Got my chrome on his dome then it dawned on him, dead 'em Plans too large, huh, nigga get on your ass, you put laws on 'em Fuck that shit, I'ma still sic my dogs on 'em Don't care how many police you call on 'em Ridin' wit' my niggas 'til the wheel fall If you got the dice, put it all on Live by the sword or die by it but sometimes you gotta fall on it Hey, ain't it funny how the dumbest niggas know it all, don't it Nigga, keep it silent, you ain't lived through it, don't talk 'bout it, yeah Sixteen totin' A-K, havin' turf war I got a record deal, started sellin' dope for my first born, I swear Look at God, won't he do it Gotta run a bag up to Summer good 'til the bullshit I did null and void Skully pulled up, forty in my hoodie, hah, and you better not make me pull it One thing about a sucka nigga, he gon' talk cash shit 'til he run into me Drop a bankroll on his main bitch, make her go and do it for me No Hollywood, couldn't fake my life Quarter million cash on a brand new jet Crowd me, nah, nobody can do that Slide a bag, sip on yac, and let 'em handle that Trap nigga whippin' work in a Bando You violate, retaliation got me mando I keep a pistol on me 'cause the bands I don't ran 'em Numbers scratched out, paper runner Strategy used to be take Atlanta Spread it then makin' it in Savannah Runnin' my play up the East Coast I done tested the caliber, YFN Lucci Kickin' shit in the Caribbean Know you pussy, can't even open eye when you shoot When you live wit' that bullshit, you die wit' it too I would talk but could not be alive wit' the truth When you owe me and then gettin' fly wit' it too Bringin' some action, survive wit' it too Swear, I'm smokin' on nothin' but power I get money and dodgin' them cowards Chorus: YFN Lucci Yeah, from the cracks and the holes in the pavement Ain't no hope for the youth, Lord, save me Gotta smile through it even though you hate it All I ask is that you pray for me Break: YFN Lucci Who gon' ride wit' me Aye, who gon' ride wit' me Yeah, death before dishonor but you lied to me, dang Who gon' ride wit' me Aye, who gon' ride wit' me Yeah, death before dishonor but you lied to me, dang Outro: Dave Chappelle This next beat is so god damn sinister that I don't even, ahhm It makes me feel like everything It's just that nitty, gritty, fuckin' dirty South shit It makes me feel good This right here, this ones for the pull-up