Correction Lyrics Jesus Forgive Me, I Am a Thot (USB MIX) by JPEGMAFIA

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Lyrics

Oh (You think you know me)
When we rappin'? (Deadly)
Uh

Pray (Pray), pray (Pray)
Pray you get comfy in your disguise (Uh)
Pray for my thots on the other side (Side)
Pray for my children I can't provide, I'll feel 45 (God damn)
Pray when you shoot, it's a homicide
Pray for my haters, they terrified (Oh)
n***a, come kill me, I'm verified (Yeah)
But I'm still alive, yeah, I'm still alive
Pray that I end up like Charlize Theron (Yeah)
I'm so confused, I ain't hard to find (Oh)
I push you pussies beyond the pine
Hope you get some shine, hope you get some shine
It come out the pocketbook every time (Brrr)
Feel like I'm shootin', I'm shiftin' time (Oh)
Dressed in your grandmama's hand-me-downs, pu**y n***a
Huh, sucka, I'm prominent, I was anonymous
I been in front of you every time
This ain't a bridge, it's a collared crime
I put my soul into every bar
Into every verse, (Man) into every rhyme (sh*t)

I can't feel my face, oh God
SMH, no ASMR (Huh)
Show me where the prophets go
Show me how to keep my pu**y closed
She said, "You better count your blessings for real"
Amen (Woo!)

Pray (Pray), pray
Pray for my babies, they doin' time (Time)
Pray that these crackers don't Columbine
I just pray that I peak before my decline
Make 'em hit recline
You know my shooter a proper dime, clarity
n***a, these bullets get entered in clip
And go into the Kimber that hit your spine (Yeah)
Britney, this a sign
Pray you grow healthy and hit your prime
Ooh, I should pray for a better line
But I don't wan' make all my peers resign
2035, I'll be 45
They say the church leave us all behind
Speaking in tongues like I'm David Byrne
b*t*h, I turn a threat to a nevermind, nevermind (Oh)
Pray for all of these n***as been lyin' and frontin' for company
b*t*h, I'm a diva, no punk in me
f**k you want from me? I'll put you under me, n***a (Oh)
I put your soul in a struggle bar

I can't feel my face, oh God
SMH, no ASMR (Huh!)
Show me where the prophets go
Show me how to keep my pu**y closed
She said, "You better count your blessings for real"
Amen

Praise the motherf**kin' lord
(Oh, dead-dead-deadly)

[Extended Instrumental Outro]

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