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Текст (слова) песни: B.B. Jay - Don`t Be Mad (Who Da` Blame)

Yeah, Come on
Blame God, blame God
Thats right, come on
Blame God, blame God
Yeah, come on
Blame God, blame God

[B.B. Jay]
Sound the alarm `cuz I`m dropping the bomb
B.B. Jay`s like the fine Don Corleon
Off gaurd, know I caught all y`all, didn`t I?
Humbug, fat track, took you like a drug
Rotate the love, I`m about to rule in a minute
Graves are dug, all you gotta do is lay in it
Profile of a thug is the worse like a curse
You doomed you done, room enough for one
Gotta pray, mad prayer-haters jealous today
Its gonna take more than that for you to hinder my pray
Je-sus, give `em the praise for the great things he has done
None can stop, we as one
Gospel bad boy rule like Buju Banton
Open ya eyes and recognize who I am son
Cause of Christ I`m jiggy laced in ice
Roll tighter than the vice, sanctified for life

[Hook: B.B. Jay]
Don`t be mad `cuz I`m fat like that
Don`t be mad `cuz I`m blessed like that
Don`t be mad `cuz yo` style is wack (Blame God)
Who da` blame? (Blame God)
Don`t be mad `cuz I`m fat like that
Don`t be mad `cuz I`m blessed like that
Don`t be mad `cuz yo` style is wack (Blame God)
Who da` blame? (Blame God)

[B.B. Jay]
I`m not your average mediocre joker trying to be hard
Or be God, just a brotha tryin to live the dream y`all
Recall the work and the sweat, love and the debt
Tears through the years and all my family and peers who got wet
Regret, a lot of things
Never sweat, a lot of things
Understand, be the man to cause of a lotta things
Diamond rings, cuban linkas, shouldn`t intrigue us
It`s a fact crack kills, real, we need Jesus
How you feel, peel a hundred bill off ya knot
Head, so hungry you can hear their stomach growl
Down the block, on the real money
A little money never make you hot
Just like you can get money
Money, you can get got
Believe dat, easy like a nine to ya mind
On a breezy night nobody there to shine but the street light
Be like on the neutral side, representin Christ
You know the one who crucified, time for change, baby

Hook

[B.B. Jay]
When you see me flossin, whippin somethin awesome
Don`t be mad at fat dad `cuz you walkin
When you had a job shoulda paid yo` tithes
But nah, you was too busy clockin mine
Now I shine like the stratus, jokers mad at us
My whole team get more cream than bank bandits
G-O-S-P-E-L I`m preachin that
Land Cruiser fully loaded, I`m peepin that
Credit forget it, co-signer never that
I want it daddy, cash to carry gimme that
Twenty years po` black, now I`m phat
Non-believers where they at, I shut that trap
Heart attack, B.B. Jay got mad flavors
`Cuz of Jeee-sus, we just stackin paper
By the truckloads, on silk sheets I dose
Like the president
Order what you want, I own the restaurant
The capital G, O-D be the glory
Uhh, universal concussion, end of story

Hook

 

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