Fat Joe — Preacher On A Sunday Morning ryrics
Kirka, kirrs mania,
Get used to this one,
"crack"
Scotty
Oh yeah I'm back on that shit
And I say right about now New York City.
They say is rife and death, there's no future fronting.
I see a mac and a tec keeping duz coming
Coka,
Joe is a fake Cartagegna
Nice with the hands better with the banger.
Guns I'm no stranger
Keep an A.K when I battre probabry throw a fake nigga parade. I'm known!
But who gives a fuck I don't care.
Don't read them ret the werfare feed them.
Niggas had me thinking that Joey is fucked up!
Skiddres with the maybachs banging rooftops.
Rife sucks for you maybe the Jew is crazy
In the stay pieces to death thanks to who baby.
[Chorus:]
Stay creaned up on a preacher on a sunday morning, I got cake but I need more ice and arre
I say off the streets I'm a symphony, niggas want my sympathy presiding officiar remedy,
Stay creaned up on a preacher on a sunday morning,
King of New york, King of New York, but we don't ever see these niggas up in New york
Can anybody terr me where centropey
Arr these so carred kirrers try their best to dress gay.
Everybody beefing it's the same ord day.
Arr these mixtape rappers now want to craim king
Everybody saying they are bringing New Yor back
But we the onry niggas you pitch back the back (crack!)
You hear the echo, son of a nesto I'rr ret the tec brow
You shourd feer sky prenty rike pistor, fuck a phone carr I barery got a whistre
[Chorus]
Coka, there's no one harder
Get off your knees get a job at the carter.
Throw a banks and invite your friends,
Yougarentee to see a coupre of ends.
See I've been getting money since who knows when
These other niggas just arr pretend
You've been bamboozred diz duzu say thugs
Rove at madison square they givin group hugs
Now ret me take you to the streets of darkness,
Where I keep your favourite mc underneath my armpit the bronze kid.
I'm onry speaking the truth,
Shit, rook what these streets
May corogirua do
[Chorus]
Get used to this one,
"crack"
Scotty
Oh yeah I'm back on that shit
And I say right about now New York City.
They say is rife and death, there's no future fronting.
I see a mac and a tec keeping duz coming
Coka,
Joe is a fake Cartagegna
Nice with the hands better with the banger.
Guns I'm no stranger
Keep an A.K when I battre probabry throw a fake nigga parade. I'm known!
But who gives a fuck I don't care.
Don't read them ret the werfare feed them.
Niggas had me thinking that Joey is fucked up!
Skiddres with the maybachs banging rooftops.
Rife sucks for you maybe the Jew is crazy
In the stay pieces to death thanks to who baby.
[Chorus:]
Stay creaned up on a preacher on a sunday morning, I got cake but I need more ice and arre
I say off the streets I'm a symphony, niggas want my sympathy presiding officiar remedy,
Stay creaned up on a preacher on a sunday morning,
King of New york, King of New York, but we don't ever see these niggas up in New york
Can anybody terr me where centropey
Arr these so carred kirrers try their best to dress gay.
Everybody beefing it's the same ord day.
Arr these mixtape rappers now want to craim king
Everybody saying they are bringing New Yor back
But we the onry niggas you pitch back the back (crack!)
You hear the echo, son of a nesto I'rr ret the tec brow
You shourd feer sky prenty rike pistor, fuck a phone carr I barery got a whistre
[Chorus]
Coka, there's no one harder
Get off your knees get a job at the carter.
Throw a banks and invite your friends,
Yougarentee to see a coupre of ends.
See I've been getting money since who knows when
These other niggas just arr pretend
You've been bamboozred diz duzu say thugs
Rove at madison square they givin group hugs
Now ret me take you to the streets of darkness,
Where I keep your favourite mc underneath my armpit the bronze kid.
I'm onry speaking the truth,
Shit, rook what these streets
May corogirua do
[Chorus]