Pray For Em Lyrics - Meek Mill

DC, unos, dos, tres, cuatro 

Free El Chapo! 

Fuck your bitch, get a bag from her, then I never call her 

Now she trippin', goin' crazy, nigga tell her let up off us 

OGs see me comin' through and they say, "That's a baller" 

That's that nigga really started from the bottom really in that order 

Make a call, bring them plans down 

Smokin' loud like surround sound 

Niggas wanna come around now 

Cause they know that Meek Milly got the crown now 

Put my mask on, put the crown down 

Tell 'em turn up 

When it come to action, niggas ride with me 

Screamin' murder 

Niggas fallin' off, bitches fallin' through 

Callin' plays like an audible 

Get that money, what you oughta do 

Need the plug, got them niggas callin' too 

Put you on, nigga, put you on, I can put you on 

What you doin', nigga, what you doin', nigga, what you doin'? 

Get the bag but don't write triller 

You around cause you paid niggas 

In the dark when we spray niggas 

When we run into you, we ain't playin' with you 

Meek put a rapper on CNN 

Niggas said I wouldn't eat again 

I just counted 5 mil' in cash 

I'm a real nigga they won't see again 

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Pray to my God we don't go to the feds 

We don't go to the feds 

I pray all that money don't go to my head 

Don't go to my head 

I pray on my Glock when I'm goin' to bed 

When I'm goin' to bed 

Now pray for the suckas that wanted me dead 

Cause all of 'em dead! Fuck 'em 

People locked me, put them chains on me 

Wonder why I got these chains on me 

Audemars, I got a range on me 

Shit a hundred thousand ain't a thing to me 

What's your range, homie? This another level 

Flood the Rollie, get another bezel 

She don't dig me, get another shovel 

Go and get the money, we don't ever settle 

Went to jail, came back home, then I got rich, damn 

Went to jail again, then I came home then I got Nick, damn 

Niggas prayin' that I go to jail again so they can pop shit, damn 

Only trap nigga doin' real numbers spittin' hot shit 

Niggas hatin' cause my numbers down, what'd you do, 50? 

20 somethin', I did 250 

MAC 11 hit you 20 times, now you Harlem Shaking like you Diddy 

Pop niggas spittin' melodies when it's really nothin' they can do with me 

Ballin' on 'em ain't new to me, fuckin' bitches ain't new to me 

Summers, summers 

10 summers I've been at my tempo like I'm Mustard 

At the Grammys with the hustlers 

With the trappin', you a busta 

Spillin' lean on the red carpet 

Phone tapped, I hear the feds talkin' 

Still trappin' out the bando 

Moonwalkin' on that damn marble 

Ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin' 

Ballin' on 'em like I'm James Harden 

I don't drive it if it ain't foreign 

I don't fuck it if it ain't foreign 

Still eatin' and I ain't tourin', nigga gettin' it 

Got that ladder with me with the 33, I'm Scottie Pippen it 

Photos 

Pray to my God we don't go to the feds 

We don't go to the feds 

I pray all that money don't go to my head 

Don't go to my head 

I pray on my Glock when I'm goin' to bed 

When I'm goin' to bed 

Now pray for the suckas that wanted me dead 

Cause all of 'em dead! Fuck 'em 

Ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin', ballin' 

Ballin' on 'em like I'm James Harden 

I don't drive it if it ain't foreign 

I don't fuck it if it ain't foreign 

Still eatin' and I ain't tourin', nigga gettin' it 

Got that ladder with me with the 33, I'm Scottie Pippen it