Jim Jones - God Bless The Child lyrics

rate me

God bless the child that can hold his own x 4

[Wyclef Jean:]

Papa left me at war

In the Croix-des-Bouquets slums

Out in Haiti

I used to hunt for my food like wolves hunt sheeps

From the whole to the project

Learned to slap box cause I couldn’t take the disrespect

Asked Mona Lisa for a date on Friday

She heard I was Haitian and she said no way

But God blessed the child

I could have been that juvenile

Yep, but that’s my cousin selling crack

And that’s me with the black and white notebook writing raps

And the words became real

And I got a record deal

And I went from last to first

I put Haiti on the map, if you're looking for my country Google Earth

God bless the child that can hold his own x 4

[Jim Jones:]

God bless because the streets is hard

We living in a world we only see facades

But check the stats, you won't believe the odds

From who make it out to who see the bars

Only a few make out the two seated cars

I hope my crew make it out and don't see the bars

When Wyclef was on tour with the Fugees

I was with Boyz n the Hood, you can't pause the movie

Thought I was hot shit when I bought the coopy

I was down in the tunnel when I wore the goofy

I was the ice berg shit, 400 sweater

I put ten up in the bank, bet I form better

It was love in the bitch way before I met her

Just was spending all my chips on the softest leathers

I told my niggas meet them at the crossroads

Until then I'ma see how fast this Porsche go

More money well them more foes

But shit I ain’t scared of you mofos

You funny niggas like Bernie mac

I do something til you same niggas turn a rat

God bless the child that can hold his own x 4

It’s much deeper than a rap song

Think it’s sweet until this beef is getting clapped on

I’ve seen sweet dreams turn in nightmares

I watch street dreams turn to life years

You can hear the loud screams when they cry tears

Now I take my whole team and we fly Leers

If it’s New York then we’re up town

California sport when we touchdown

I’m getting money, wouldn't call it fame

It was right before she nutted when she called my name

Backing out the telly, wheels in reverse

She had the telly slippers on, heels in her purse

I put her in a cab, you dealing with a jerk

It's atleast a quarter mil when a nigga murk

Shit they follow me like i’m racketeering

They must have got fed with the black McLaren

And yea they racial profile my black appearance

And I always ran the streets, I had absent parents

And every night we pray to the sky

In the hood where is 9 million ways to die

God bless the child that can hold his own x 4