ترانه:
J Church Bomb

way Sittin on twenty-two's, that's what long money do Now the Don's on it, Diddy shine on it Tell Flex to run it back and drop a bomb on it Sunday we

got a different name, but they all the same So Coolio loco gonna put you up on game We got homies who sell straps, homies who sell crack Homies who sell the bomb

Only like rockin' the stuff that really costs Lip gloss shinin', tattoos on the back Attitude like Mary J, mixed wit Brat You can find 'em at a beauty shop, mall or church

Put my hands on my shorty and I make it hot-ter I got a lock ya, flavour to bring Got the championships so I'ma savour the ring Church boy, raised

moms Back in the seventies, she was the bomb His games top notch, and he don't stop He hit a reverends daughter in a church parkin' lot Tay-Kwan is

disappear like Houdini or who-done-it a Whoridah Got old folks scared just to go outside on there front porch And all this bullshit is going on in church

Truer than the mack but I'm downer than he is And that police chief named Willie Can take his motherfucking ass back to Philly Dropped a bomb on a crew

Nigga shoulda been rushed off the stage Feelin nutty then bust a gauge Cut like spades, blowin back out like hand grenades Ya patna's over there bleeding Now you in church

this rap shit Chrome 24s with the fat lip, call the shits? cash ? Fuckin with the bomb squad Dismantle any MC for free, you been warned god Church, Higher