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Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Lola Brooke
Lola Brooke
Vocals
Sharif Slater
Sharif Slater
Programming
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Shyniece Thomas
Shyniece Thomas
Songwriter
Scott Berger-Felder
Scott Berger-Felder
Songwriter
Sharif Slater
Sharif Slater
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Scotty 2 Hotty
Scotty 2 Hotty
Producer
Christopher Deroux Brown
Christopher Deroux Brown
Recording Engineer
John "Tilly" Tillman
John "Tilly" Tillman
Assistant Recording Engineer
Dan Millice
Dan Millice
Mastering Engineer
Eugene Sims
Eugene Sims
Executive Producer
Sharif Slater
Sharif Slater
Producer

Lyrics

Uh-huh Oh, it's hard to believe he's a child of God Grew up as a rapper with some morals 'cause my mother did (mommy did) Never show their true colors, gotta check the color grid (never) He ain't in the streets no more, he just caught another bid (huh) Musicians goin' through the most, the money ain't too humblin' (brr) The destiny is heavenly, the pressure start compressin' me (huh) Who knew bein' multitalented could 'cause this jealousy? (Huh) Went out to go get it for a better me Came back, they're askin' for a check Is you askin' or you tellin' me? (What?) Puttin' pain on our family as we do it for the Grammys (it's on) Protect all our kids, that is strictly for the nannies I put all my trust in mommy of becomin' a new granny (boo) System can't stand me (Oh, it's hard to believe he's a child of God) They worry 'bout the actors, worry 'bout the trappers (trappers) Pray every night that God bless all the rappers Steady tryna attack us (attack us), forget the main factors I pray by myself every night that God bless all the rappers (hard to believe he's a child of God) God bless all the rappers God bless all the rappers God bless all the rappers God bless all the rappers (It's hard to believe he's a child of God) 24 days and night, it's like hell in this bitch (it's like hell in this bitch) So sick to my stomach, can't smell in this bitch (can't even smell in this bitch) Feel like hell to get rich (huh), it's like hell to get drenched (huh) Labels killin' souls every day, them cells could get a wrist (it's hard, he's a child of God) We turn gold into the plaques (plaques), plaques into the diamonds (diamonds) Jewels on the neck make 'em get on bad timin' (ta-ta-ta) I'm just here to do my job, complete what's the assignment (huh?) Lost his marbles to the streets, and he still can't find it (huh?) How could you kill Pop Smoke (huh?) How could you kill PnB? (huh?) How could you kill Chinx Drugz, King Von, MO3? How could you kill Drakeo the Ruler? Should be worried how they lose you XXX, Nipsey, both died from a shooter They say the most dangerous job is for the rappers We don't never see it comin', we use strategies for after That shit backwards, God bless all the rappers They worry 'bout the actors, worry 'bout the trappers Pray every night that God bless all the rappers Steady tryna attack us, forget the main factors I pray by myself every night that God bless all the rappers (it's hard to believe, he's a child) Somebody that the other day said to be a rapper artist is the most dangerous job in the world God bless all the rappers (why say that? It's more dangerous than goin' to war now to rap) God bless all the rappers (we don't know who's who He will get right up on you tryna do somethin' to you) God bless all the rappers (how many times you heard a rapper say I'm about to get shot up) God bless all the rappers
Writer(s): Sharif Slater, Millie Jackson, Shyniece Thomas, Don French Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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