"Glory Of War" lyrics
(feat. Anthony Hamilton)
Stevie Wonder on the pianos
Geechi Liberace in the building
Ray Charles on the flute
Sway wallabies, I follow policies
Always give her game every time she swallow me
Shootin' blanks, but you gotta hit the chart at least
Seen a lot of young MCs even die for peace
Niggas posting pictures while I'm posted in Belize
Spent those lonely rainy nights just praying on my knees
Being overseas is a daily routine
Young niggas traveling the world, that's just been in our genes
Put the gang together, now you niggas traumatized
Kilos and koofis, King Tut during Ramadan
Scramble like I'm number 9 during the summertime
Doubling back number 1, I'm doubling back around
Drop DC4 then shut Atlantic down
8 figure nigga, tell me how those numbers sound
Hit the Bay and let Berner know that I want a pound
In LA, get the Bentley truck just to run around
305 nigga 'til they gun me down
Little kids in the streets gotta come in the house
When the shots ring, even cops pause
Niggas full of bullet holes which is not boss
Funny how a rich nigga was so poor at math
Make it rain, shorty, better throw it back
It's leather bell-ringing man 80 bands
Middle of the floor, time for the money dance
It's a time for politics and it's a time to kill
Fast break and we coming like the Cavaliers
I could turn a nigga city to a battlefield
And my biggest flaw really was my lack of fear
Big Ducky in Fruit Town, he 2000
Tony Draper in H-Town with the coupes out
These my niggas on call and we bring the suits out
Pool party, it's popping like Uncle Luke house
Fake niggas, it's time that we pull ya skirts up
At the table and pussy niggas ain't worth nothing
Couple shooters gotta keep 'em in a [?] line
Nothing really than [?] still alive
Niggas body dropping like a holocaust
The glory of war really your mama loss
First time all your kids got to play together
Holding hands, bow our heads, let us pray together
Funny how a rich nigga was so poor at math
Make it rain, shorty, better throw it back
It's leather bell-ringing man 80 bands
Middle of the floor, time for the money dance
I cut off some more friends and family members
Hope they know I'm the raw nigga, a cold villain
Haters still hating 50 million later
I'mma tell you like a player, better get some paper
Still can't believe it all as I walk my halls
Rarely speak to these niggas screaming, "Free my dogs"
Little homie didn't rob, but he took the charge
Dade County niggas still behind them bars
Geechi Liberace in the building
Ray Charles on the flute
Sway wallabies, I follow policies
Always give her game every time she swallow me
Shootin' blanks, but you gotta hit the chart at least
Seen a lot of young MCs even die for peace
Niggas posting pictures while I'm posted in Belize
Spent those lonely rainy nights just praying on my knees
Being overseas is a daily routine
Young niggas traveling the world, that's just been in our genes
Put the gang together, now you niggas traumatized
Kilos and koofis, King Tut during Ramadan
Scramble like I'm number 9 during the summertime
Doubling back number 1, I'm doubling back around
Drop DC4 then shut Atlantic down
8 figure nigga, tell me how those numbers sound
Hit the Bay and let Berner know that I want a pound
In LA, get the Bentley truck just to run around
305 nigga 'til they gun me down
Little kids in the streets gotta come in the house
When the shots ring, even cops pause
Niggas full of bullet holes which is not boss
Funny how a rich nigga was so poor at math
Make it rain, shorty, better throw it back
It's leather bell-ringing man 80 bands
Middle of the floor, time for the money dance
It's a time for politics and it's a time to kill
Fast break and we coming like the Cavaliers
I could turn a nigga city to a battlefield
And my biggest flaw really was my lack of fear
Big Ducky in Fruit Town, he 2000
Tony Draper in H-Town with the coupes out
These my niggas on call and we bring the suits out
Pool party, it's popping like Uncle Luke house
Fake niggas, it's time that we pull ya skirts up
At the table and pussy niggas ain't worth nothing
Couple shooters gotta keep 'em in a [?] line
Nothing really than [?] still alive
Niggas body dropping like a holocaust
The glory of war really your mama loss
First time all your kids got to play together
Holding hands, bow our heads, let us pray together
Funny how a rich nigga was so poor at math
Make it rain, shorty, better throw it back
It's leather bell-ringing man 80 bands
Middle of the floor, time for the money dance
I cut off some more friends and family members
Hope they know I'm the raw nigga, a cold villain
Haters still hating 50 million later
I'mma tell you like a player, better get some paper
Still can't believe it all as I walk my halls
Rarely speak to these niggas screaming, "Free my dogs"
Little homie didn't rob, but he took the charge
Dade County niggas still behind them bars
Thanks to Damani Dada for correcting these lyrics.
Writer(s): Lonnie Liston Smith, William Leonard Roberts Ii, Francis Ubiera, Daniel Garcia
