Dark Hearted Songtext

von Freddie Gibbs

Yeah (yeah)
(Space Rabbit)
Yeah-yeah (yeah)
Yeah-yeah (space Rabbit push a space coupe)
I pray the choppa never jam, homie (yeah)
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (yeah-yeah)
I pray the choppa never jam

.30, .30 in my hands
DEA and detective done got me cuffed on that ambulance
Nigga ain′t no solvin' no murders, welcome to Murderland
Send a hit and scratch off a hit, bitch, I′m the Murder Man

Pray the Lord puts his hands on me
And I know I took a risk with this shit when I put my hands on it
All my enemies watchin', they plottin' plan on me
They go end up one of them dead homies

′Cause how can a nigga stand on it when it ain′t the truth?
Pussy niggas run on me when it's time to shoot
Motherfuck a friend, get them bitches out my crew
I know you wouldn′t fuck with me if I didn't have no loot

′Cause I'm the one that push a hard line
Tell me, what niggas know about hard times?
Empty stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide
Know some bitch niggas that snitch, niggas on my side
Still a rich nigga with mob ties

′Cause nigga, we was locked in
Million six and my niggas didn't want apartment
We was pushin' that molly, powder and octane
Back when bitches, they used to play with my heart then
Police might shoot me and kill me over my dark skin

Man, this game got me dark-hearted
Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don′t get me started
I thought we was gon′ thug it out to the end
But I guess that shit just wasn't on the plans
I pray this choppa never jam

.30, .30 in my hands
Shoot him if he ain′t DOA, we shoot up the ambulance
Nigga ain't no solvin′ no murders, welcome to Murderland
Bulletproof my shit, they might hit it, bitch, I'm the Murder Man

Dead nigga put his hands on me
I might pop another bottle and pour one out for your dead homie
Swear my friends turnin′ fed on me (bitch)
Man, they pussy niggas might take a stand on me

But how can a nigga stand on it when it ain't the truth?
Pussy niggas run on me when it's time to shoot
She think I′m her man, baby, I′m just knockin' boots
I know you wouldn′t fuck with me if I didn't have no loot

′Cause I'm the one that push a hard line
Tell me, what bitches know about hard times?
Empty stomach get you the heart to go do a homicide
Know some bitch niggas that snitch, niggas on my side
Still a rich nigga with mob ties

′Cause nigga, we was locked in
Million six and my niggas didn't want apartment
We was pushin' that molly, powder and octane
Back when bitches, they used to play with my heart then
Police might shoot me and kill me over my dark skin

Man, this game got me dark-hearted
Smoke a jam like a alcoholic, don′t get me started
I thought we was gon′ thug it out to the end
But I guess that shit just wasn't on the plans
I pray this choppa never jam (yeah-yeah)

I pray this choppa never jam (yeah-yeah)
I pray this choppa never jam, homie (yeah-yeah)
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (yeah-yeah)
I pray this choppa never jam
I pray this choppa never jam (yeah-yeah)
I pray this choppa never jam, homie (yeah)
I pray the Lord puts his hands on me (yeah-yeah)