hardtimes records – god speed lyrics
hardtimes records ft. war bixby – “god speed”
[emcee(s): war bixby]
[producer(s): [?]]
[verse 1: war bixby]
it’s hard to see the truth when your friend’s your worst enemy
driving negative energy, trying to k!ll your ident-ty
plotting to put an end to me with their feminine tendencies
to h-ll’s where they’re sending me, hoping i fall like the autumn leaves
never. get off my d-ck. my past righteous
i’m god’s wrath with icepicks. i’ll shove ‘em in your eyelids
but forgive me for the violence. i couldn’t bear to stay silent
death before dishonor, i got the heart of a lion
left hook made of iron, and i’m back in the streets, grinding
the heavens opened up, the lord spoke, “keep shining”
lo no que mata will only make me stronger. blocka
que dios te bendiga [?] casa
ashes to ashes and dust to dust. pour
some henny in my cup, put the weed in the dutch
n-gg-s need to fall back and shut the f-ck up
watch us get money. we’re living it up—blao!
more money—now that’s the relevance. i ain’t
settling for cash. boost my adrenaline—my music’s medicine
the seasoned veteran stomp you like stampeding elephants
war’s your eminence. hip hop’s alive—i’m the evidence
brooklyn ac’, hardtimes psychotically intelligent
this is my testament. it’s now or never—nig, i’m going in
march. no guts, no glory
respect mandatory. god’s hand writing his greatest story
witness, for the melody is my mistress
my pen game is sickest, wordplay displays the mental fitness
focus the memoirs of a soldier in the
midst of warfare, pirate of brooklyn getting colder
my daughter getting older while mothers pray to jehovah
you get shot in the shoulder accidentally in a hold-up
stressed out, roll up. it’s 4/20—smoke up
get high, live life, drink ‘til you throw up
d-mn. i’m a leader, not a follower
brooklyn in my blood. half y’all n-gg-s c-m-swallowers
skeming, beaming, we’re moving like the [?]
we’re cool like the fonz breezing. my heart freezing
stop peeking. teta, the ghetto will leave you leaking
this half-black puerto rican renewing your belief in
artistic portraits. i keep beasting, beat you with an
easton. yo, i think i jumped off the deep end
from offense to defense, take a walk in my feet prints
it’s an early [?] and they follow the foot into the sequence
sh-t. life’s a son of a b-tch. we’re on
the road to get rich—cut the check. i’m out, godspeed
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