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    Fabolous / Lyrics

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    "Forgive Me Father" Lyrics


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    Unh (uh-huh unh) yea
    There's alot of money over here
    (Hahahahahaha) Ha Ha
    Unh (unh unh unh) Thats word to Brooklyn
    I'm back I don't know what the fuck is wrong with these niggas

    [Verse 1]
    Maybe cause I'm eatin And these bastards fiend for my grub
    I carry pumps like I serve gasoline to these scrubs
    Have you seen my Aston leanin on dubs
    And they can't afford chrome so they puttin vasoline on they hubs
    I'm lookin for a girl with a ass like Trina to rub
    Take home and let her watch the plasma screen in the tub
    These niggas hate I'm movin so much cash and cream in the club
    And dont pass my green on my bub
    But I'm a fly nigga that don't do much to pull her and dick her
    Everyday I'm poppin a tab and pullin a sticker
    Everyday I'm switchin the tags and pullin up sicker
    Every "K" I'm loadin the mags with bullets to flicker
    And I aint hesitatin homie I'm pullin it quicker
    So you can act tough After a few pulls on some liquor
    Got em pullin on niggas
    And they won't be goin nowhere for a while
    They might as well pull out a snicker Ye-Ye-Yea

    Forgive me father for I have sinned
    But look at all this money that I spend
    And look at all this jewlery that I'm in
    And look at all the places that I've been
    And look at all the women in those brims
    Look at the blue flames that I'm in
    I look at all the bullshit that theres been
    And if I had another chance I'd do it again

    [Verse 2]
    Anywhere the kid move you know the hammers'll be with me
    Pokin out the shirt like a Pamela Lee titty
    I went on tour brought the samples of D wit me
    Came back a month later bought a Lambo for three-fifty
    Think I throw you grams if you read with me
    Just because you see me on the camera with P. Diddy
    Dammit we P-driddy??? Now I got G with me
    Along with the third leg that I be rammin in these bitties
    I keep the revolver you hope my gun'll jam
    But with the soap its gonna blam
    The info put freckles on your face like Opie Cunningham
    Thats why I'm watched by the Feds and scoped by Uncle Sam
    Dope and hunn-ed (hundred) grams rope and hunn-ed grams
    At the same time our artist get to open Summer Jam
    Hope you understand or use better sense
    These niggas dont want no beef they want lawsuit settlements Nigga!


    [Verse 3]
    I'm in a waggy with em passin by ya
    With a baby girl who suck harder than Maggie on a pacifier
    What I'm smokin'll have you aggie as your last supplier
    When you can smell it through the bag you know that's some fire
    Gettin stressed by these hotties is regular
    I got a magazine to press to your body like editors
    Test me somebody I'm beggin ya
    I got the gatling gun like Jesse The Body in Predator
    I'm a hustler I dont sling no rocks to the fiends now
    Got dudes who sit on corners like a boxer between rounds
    Any other dude who dish rocks want beef
    Cause I chop jobs bigger than Chris Rock front teef
    I'm the nigga tearin the walls up in your miss in exchange for a small cup
    of the Cris
    And while you at probation fillin a small cup full of piss
    I'm in a coupe with a roof that ball up like a fist (Catch up!)


    Thats right I'll do it again nigga (unh yea)
    I'm a motherfuckin ghetto superstar nigga (unh)
    Desert Storm Street Family (unh) we here (yea)
    Young G's Salute (yea)
    Get this fuckin money man
    It's alot of fuckin money over here (yea)
    I don't know what the fuck you doin (unh unh yea)
    This song was last modified on November 28th, 2016.
    Copyright with Lyrics © Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC.
    Written by John Jackson, John David Jackson, L. Gaye.
    Lyrics licensed by LyricFind.

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