Morning Mourning Lyrics - Styles P

Is this it, Priest? The Pope's new army? 

A few crusty bitches and a handful of rag-tags? 

Now, now, Bill... 

you swore this was a battle between warriors, 

not a bunch of Miss Nancies 

So warriors is what I brought 

A cold heart and a hot slug is not love 

Them boys'll pop up, leave you chopped up 

There's a lot of pussy niggas 

But it's not us 

Got cuffed, why you think I'm frontin' in a drop truck 

Grindin', I work real hard, it wasn't pot luck 

'Lotta work in the pot, couple niggas was shot up 

The glorifying times or the horrifying crimes 

But the more I see the soft shit 

The more that I'm inclined 

To let the real niggas know it's all about the shine 

Let em get it in the sun, get your gun when the moon fall 

Soon to tell the goons meet the Ghost by the pool hall 

'Cause when the rules get lost, it's a fool's fault 

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Take a smart man to get in on the smooth course 

Singin' you were never found by Lou Ross 

Thinkin' can I live? Now the crib got two floors 

Can't snooze off, nor take my shoes off 

'Lotta niggas is rude, that shit'll throw your mood off 

'Lotta niggas is cruel, tryna' cut your fuel off 

Watch your ride die, no jump for you 

They ain't pump you up 

But I bet you they got a pump for you 

Right here he said he would dump for you 

Then he went and left you for death 

they on hunt for you 

Maybe you just blind 

Or maybe you just fine with gettin' lyin' 

'Cause you pussy by design, what! 

Photos 

Mama told me to pray in the morning 

I'm stuck here in the place tonight 

God forbid we don't make it to the mornin' 

In the rain that I die, could be found in my mom's eyes 

See the pain under her veil while she moaning 

Don't wait to pray 'til the morning 

'Cause you may not make it home 

Yeah, you die if you violate, eyes dilate 

Knowing weed tryin' vibrate 

Thirty-eight in my size nines win the tri-state 

Swim with the sharks, you a killa or you live bait 

Considered a titan although I'm only five-eight 

Born in the jungle, made it out, I survived hate 

Run with gorillas, bang my chest like I'm a primate 

Consider me a land pirate that knows the pie rate 

Get lined without a ruler 

Nine at your medulla for a lil' bit of moolah 

Found his body chopped up in mexico in the cooler 

Right next to a shooter and his best friend 

It ain't chess but they put him in, check then 

If you know the math on the wrath, he is less than 

From the south side, better hustle on the west end 

Pain and the stress gonna kill you if it's kept in 

Ghost nigga 

Mama told me to pray in the morning 

I'm stuck here in the place tonight 

God forbid we don't make it to the mornin' 

In the rain that I die, could be found in my mom's eyes 

See the pain under her veil while she moaning 

Don't wait to pray 'til the morning 

'Cause you may not make it home