Flu Game

[Intro: Jim Jones]
God is good
Let the congregation speak
Uh, uh, uh
We still here, though
Through all the ups and the downs (It feel like church music)
Uh

[Verse: Jim Jones]
It feel like church music, Curtis Mayfield (Woo)
Testimony of those that only murder and straight chill (Chill)
Where they live check to check, so for certain they don't make wills (Harlem)
Government assistance, so they ain't worried when they pay bills (Ooh)
Finessin' the connect, bird to bird off of fake bills ('Member that?)
Couple niggas dropped dead, I heard it was them fake pills (That fentanyl)
Feds dropped the charge, he still servin' in state still (He'll be home soon)
Niggas in my hood might serve you up a eighth still (No names)
Many nights, mama love wasn't there (Love you, mommy)
I'm not tryna say that that kind of love wasn't there (Huh)
But when they was cookin' up the base, all them drugs in the air (Woo)
With no food in the fridge, nigga, that grub wasn't there (I was hungry)
I don't know too many homies turned bangin' Blood a career (East side)
And bitch, I'm from Harlem, I was bangin' Blood everywhere (Cali, Miami)
Everywhere I was flamed up, like a slave, I was chained up
Stumblin' out the club, tell valet "Pull the Range up" (Where my truck at?)
Wasn't the type that you could send to the store (Never)
And bitch, when I drip, you know I might Fendi the floor (Mop that shit up)
Forty on the waist with F&N's in the car (Not slippin', shit)

[Outro: Trinidad James & Jim Jones]
Okay, okay
Pray for us, church (Okay, okay)
Okay-ayy-ayy
Come on, okay, okay, haha
C'est la vie, c'est la vie on the beach on Congolese
I'm smokin', lookin' for peace
I pray for the Middle East
Trini' gal, pretty face (Trini' gal)
She neat, like Mona Lis'
I spit and I release this venom between my teeth