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letra de hail mary - ceto

[intro: jay electronica]
for every casualty i felt, i blow a hundred racks
hit the strip club, blow a hundred stacks
tell the dj to run it back, run it back

[pre-hook: jay elecronica]
money by the trash bags, a body in a glad bag
if the 3rd ward is iraq, then the magnolia is baghdad
my swag is verified, you f-gs is terrorized
the ak-47 life’ll leave you n-ggas paralyzed

[hook: jay electronica]
hail mary for all my n-ggas in the cemetery
our father for every n-gga waitin’ on commissary
every soldier that died in magnolia took a long time to bury
it’s all kinds of scary
cause it’s quite hard to maintain that soldier-life mentality
it’s gon’ be a tragedy if that white man come and h-ssle me
slap me down and wrestle me, just to put on handcuffs
charge me with resistance when i throw my hands up

[bridge: jay electronica]
just consider me uptown
where your whole clique could get bucked down
i f-ck with that 1.5
but i never listen to bust down
in that ‘nolia, n-ggas get fixed to runnin’ them bricks
like they runnin’ touchdowns
you runnin’ yo’ mouth, they spendin’ a band, my n-gga
and you gettin’ cut down

[verse 1: ceto]
i come in ya house, that thing, give that f-ckin’ [?] to us now
a round from the chopper open up your top and spin your truck ’round
power, money, respect, n-ggas know ceto
presidential in these streets, p-ssy n-gga you get vetoed
how you scared to look through your peephole
somebody gon’ dig a deep hole catch you talkin’ to them people
you gon’ learn to respect this g code, that f-ckin’ upt code
from that mac to that [?] i grab that mac off that shelf
and turn a bad man a pallbearer and put your casket on my belt

[hook]

[verse 2: ceto]
you ask me why i do it, i just tell ’em that i can
it’s that soldier-life mentality, real n-ggas understand
keep that 40 in my hand, ridin’ around in the city
it’s some sh-t you never seen, make you think of dr. king
the way a n-gga livin’ dreams, i’ll approach ya like a ghost
been a gangster since the 90’s i done done more than most
we got money up in trash bags, bodies in the glad bags
ain’t nothin’ changed since ’94, we still wearin’ them soldier rags

for every casualty i felt, i blow a hundred racks
hit the strip club, blow a hundred stacks
tell the dj to run it back, run it back

[outro: ceto]
rest in peace to all the dead n-ggas come out the motherf-ckin’ projects, ya heard me
and every ghetto worldwide
real n-gga gon’ hold it down

- ceto

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