"Lord Knows" lyrics
Fabolous & DJ Drama Lyrics
Your worst nightmare be this verse right here
But good, that's what you niggas get for sleeping on me
I put your favorite rapper in that hearse right there
And I bet his weeping homies won't do shit but call them peoples on me
Hard to keep it real when everybody keep it phony
I'mma keep it Sosa while these niggas keep it Tony
You gotta watch the picture that you painting with your verses
We go in niggas' mouths, I don't know 'bout bitches' purses
And what's up with this, "I'm just sayin'" shit?
Fuck asked you? You shouldn't be saying shit
Problem is, assholes always saying shit
But money talks – you ain't got it, then you shouldn't be saying shit
Like Plaxi-ho, oops, I mean Plaxico
Talking 'bout we get 'em robbed
Shut the fuck up, Cheddar Bob
You know the story, nigga come home, set it sob
Gonna be a hater 'cause he can't find a better job
Nigga at home, feeling like he out of town
Nigga on the field, feeling like he out of bounds
Welcome to my city, emphasis on my city
That just my opinion, but who really fucking with me, huh?
Why give a fuck it makes no sense to give
That Ray J shit got me so sensitive
Big bad wolf dressed in a granny disguise
Bitch nigga, I see through your tranny disguise
Your jeans sagging too low, or your panties too high
You can't touch me, you waiting for your mani to dry
And you don't want them niggas in your house though
Trying to see if you got indo'/outdo'
I ain't one to put no info out, no
You start shit, I end shit — intro/outro
You under the influence, I'm over the bullshit
You on a empty tank, I got a full clip
You got the drool dripping from the wolves' lips
Don't have that man talking 'bout you from the pulpit
Blahsay blah, blahsay blah
Yeah, death comes in threes like menage a trois
Mase-Qua, that's the four-door 'rati
My Aston Martin, made that a four-door body
Double pipes, that's my four-door shotty
Sitting but I'm shitting, that's my four-door potty
Ain't too many ride like me, literally
This what separates the majors from the little league
Little me, just trying to be the bigger person
Dr. Bruce Banner, but the nigga version
And you don't want to see me angry
You won't like it when I'm angry
My condolences from the boss
All I could say, sorry for your loss
But good, that's what you niggas get for sleeping on me
I put your favorite rapper in that hearse right there
And I bet his weeping homies won't do shit but call them peoples on me
Hard to keep it real when everybody keep it phony
I'mma keep it Sosa while these niggas keep it Tony
You gotta watch the picture that you painting with your verses
We go in niggas' mouths, I don't know 'bout bitches' purses
And what's up with this, "I'm just sayin'" shit?
Fuck asked you? You shouldn't be saying shit
Problem is, assholes always saying shit
But money talks – you ain't got it, then you shouldn't be saying shit
Like Plaxi-ho, oops, I mean Plaxico
Talking 'bout we get 'em robbed
Shut the fuck up, Cheddar Bob
You know the story, nigga come home, set it sob
Gonna be a hater 'cause he can't find a better job
Nigga at home, feeling like he out of town
Nigga on the field, feeling like he out of bounds
Welcome to my city, emphasis on my city
That just my opinion, but who really fucking with me, huh?
Why give a fuck it makes no sense to give
That Ray J shit got me so sensitive
Big bad wolf dressed in a granny disguise
Bitch nigga, I see through your tranny disguise
Your jeans sagging too low, or your panties too high
You can't touch me, you waiting for your mani to dry
And you don't want them niggas in your house though
Trying to see if you got indo'/outdo'
I ain't one to put no info out, no
You start shit, I end shit — intro/outro
You under the influence, I'm over the bullshit
You on a empty tank, I got a full clip
You got the drool dripping from the wolves' lips
Don't have that man talking 'bout you from the pulpit
Blahsay blah, blahsay blah
Yeah, death comes in threes like menage a trois
Mase-Qua, that's the four-door 'rati
My Aston Martin, made that a four-door body
Double pipes, that's my four-door shotty
Sitting but I'm shitting, that's my four-door potty
Ain't too many ride like me, literally
This what separates the majors from the little league
Little me, just trying to be the bigger person
Dr. Bruce Banner, but the nigga version
And you don't want to see me angry
You won't like it when I'm angry
My condolences from the boss
All I could say, sorry for your loss
Writer(s): William Leonard Roberts, Justin Gregory Smith, Aubrey Drake Graham, Anthony George Palman
