What You Do
Dear God, it’s my time, believe me I’m with it
But before I go, forgive me for the times that I didn’t
Use better judgment against the people I shitted
Them young girls I fucked over and the sins I committed
Thought my master plan was hand crafted
Never thought my master plan would backfire and get my own man blasted
Now we both on our way to hell in hand baskets
Screaming fuck the world for telling us we can’t have it
The hoes, prestige and dollar signs
Ready to serve any nigga feeling like he want a part of mine
My conscious would speak to me a lot of times
When I was busy starching up my white collar crimes
The blueprint follow mines, nigga we can go settle it
I got banks in Switzerland and hoes in the Netherlands
That specialize in offshore accounts and embezzlement
So if your dough get tapped, you know where the hell it went
You funny niggas best be going, the dope specialist
Did more pedaling than Greg LeMond
And you ain’t tryna see none of that, a wild thundercat
Tryna outrun my past life but now it’s coming back
And now I’m kneeling, both palms together
Looking for answers and proverbs, psalms, whatever
And when my soul burns in hell, to myself I owe it
Cause money, sex and power was the motive, for real
