Brazillian Masses lyrics

[Hook]

On a rainy sunday
I lost my mind
On a rainy sunday
I lost track of time
On a rainy sunday
I sat and died
On a rainy sunday
Valentine


[Verse One]

My sanity's on the line, can't he just can it
When it comes to numbering my lines?
He had one good line on one album but that sh*t was cool
But now he just sounds like a fool, my n*gga
I forgot a whole bunch of sh*t, but what I forgot
Could help you not get jumped and sh*t
Maybe I'm only talking to one victim
Who just needs to listen to me so they can learn how to run again
I don't wanna learn how to be a son again
I wanna be known, I don't have to say, "come again"
That's the kind of life I wanna live
Only problem is, I gotta run sh*t
My stomach is ripped, not cause I do sit-ups
But cause I'm tired of doing pull-ups from n*ggas saying get up
n*ggas never said it, but I could bet, if I put it on
My debit, they put that sh*t to bed, and say it

[Hook]


[Verse Two]

African Child Pornography: the wildest thoughts
You gotta see from a black kid. What happened
In the industry was racism; they can't take
A n*gga spitting with straight precision
Maybe not Jimmy, maybe not Barry; Barry
Was gay, but Three H wanted to get married away
With David Duke. Say the truth:
You ain't like me, and it's a racial view
Then again, aren't you jack? Don't you black?
Don't you have a gat? Don't I owe you, in fact?
I don't owe you (heh) jack; The laugh
I just added should let you know where I'm at
You p*ssed off b*tches, n*ggas don't feel you;
n*ggas wanna kill me because you're my mildew
So what do I do, bill you? Or still be
Cool with you, or be a real dude?


[Hook]

[Verse Three]

As I musically and beautifully boss 'em, possom
Pardon me, that's what I'm play right now, lost 'em
But Ryan's ass' out getting auctioned, so
Don't say Charles just lost one. Yo, I'm
Tired of critics, ya'll n*ggas is irritating
I got the ear of Satan; meaning my sh*t is hot
And I get it in with hip-hop, so watch me
Only if you not thinking 'bout penetrating
But since most of ya'll n*ggas is doing that
I guess I gotta come back and ruin rap
See, I run black music—like drums
But I don't like them; I'm the nice one
Problem is I got black beauties, like a horse trainer
One whore is a brainer,the other one could throw it back;
Don't mean to call you a whore, but if I couldn't call you that
I couldn't call you no more—that's the game


[Hook]