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File Added: Nov 02
Lyrics Added: Nov 07
Swizz
Artiste:
Year:
2018
Added By:
Nov 07, (2018-11-07)

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Lyrics of preach (feat. jim jones) by Swizz Beatz Lyrics
[Verse 1: Jim Jones]
I told Swizz they ain't ready for the smoke though (Oh!)
Still got niggas that be pointin’ guns at the po-po
Probably got a picture of your auntie in my photos
That was you in front the building
When she was hoppin' out my four-door
Shit, but what you like nineteen now?
But you probably still never had like nineteen thou'
In my day I had to work to bring the white fiends down
Brought some crackheads around, just to wipe the V down
Why drink Rose when Jay got Aces?
Free Leek he was with me the other day up in Aces
Bunch of pretty watches with the frozen up faces
We got them lawyers we can call just to close up the cases
Shit, I’m from Harlem, where that stuntin is outrageous
Went up in the dealer just to cop somethin' outrageous
Yeah we got parents, but the drug dealers raised us
And shit, I prayed to God, but the lord never saved us
So we stuck what we stuck, what was fu-Ckin' with that?
I pack guns with shoulder stocks with the muffler attached
We take trips to different places with the butler attached
Or playback the Maybach, press a button relax

[Chorus: Swizz Beats & Jim Jones]
Preach
Oh my, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh
Preach
Oh my, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh

[Verse 2: Jim Jones]
Supreme Court hearings, brand new McLarens
Suede pipe seats, Tiptronic steering
Baby this is art that come with no commission
Could be a blind man, but you gotta know the vision
Private jets just to blow the izzo
Parden me 'cause I been accused of male chauvinism
Gettin' head in the whip, and havin' no collisions
Never lackin' 'cause I keep that fully loaded with em
Shit, you know I gotta shout the bros in prison (Eastside)
My nigga Gleem is like a blow magician
Shit, he cook it up and watch it disappear
Shit, now light it up and let it hit the air (Light that up)
I was spittin’ Ace of Spade all in this bitch’s ear
I told her, like pretty women like Richard Gere
Uh, pack guns and stay fly is a part of us
Four bitches packed up in the Benz, it's like a party bus
All this tough talk, but niggas ain’t as hard as us
I cook coke at the kitchen, watch it harden up

[Chorus: Swizz Beats & Jim Jones]
Preach
Oh my, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh
Preach
Oh my, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh
Preach
My, oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh


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