Lyrics of 'No Church In The Wild (feat. Rick Ross)' by Meek Mill
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No Church In The Wild (feat. Rick Ross) is a song by Meek Mill whose lyrics have countless searches, so we decided it deserves its place on this website, along with many other song lyrics that internet users want to know.
Prime 112 behind the double doors
As I rewind the devils floors
Paths cross, of course your life lost
"Patience a virtue. Heard that you're the boss"
Your informant's correct
Now give me enormous respect
Cornered the game, record label on his chain
Right hand on the bible watch the flow catch flame
Margielas on her feet
Now she riding with a lame all jealous in the Jeep
All the lil homies wanna eat
But we never settle beef
So settle your debts before there's any regrets
Gino do the graffitti and Black Evander with the Tech
My girls say that I'm a mess
DJ Khaled say I'm the best
And my city do too
20 in the trunk, that's how city boys move
8.9, now the crib got a view
Mandarin manicure, DEA in pursuit
Champagne and a Rolex, Rose
No church for a d-boy: let's pray
Ain't no church in the wild for a nigga like me
In the game so foul in a world full of sin
Where the love flow thin
And the pain run deep
Cause it's blood in the streets
See the stains on the money, No love for the weak
Where it rain, never sunny, just mud on a beach
Where a hater sticks to you like mud on a cleat
Thanksgiving with the birds just drugs for a feast
Young'n only 13 with a snub in his fleece
Even though his heart's cold, he in love with the heat
See the high in his eyes, hear the slugs in his speech
From the bottom out of Philly, I emerge from the east
Peace! At the dealer talking Bugatti talk
You never heard it like Illuminati talk
Tell em haters that it's my mama's fault
Breaking bricks - you would think we talking karate talk
Young niggas with old money
Never trust a nigga that said "let me hold something"
Never trust a bitch that tell you she ain't blown nothing
The Weathermen never tell me about these cold summers
Tears dripped on my dad casket
Niggas turned me into a bastard
Glock 40 on me is plastic
Get to reaching I'm squeezing on him and clapping
And I ain't talking about assemblies
I'm talking head-shots where niggas won't remember me
I asked God please remove my enemies
I was surprised when I lost niggas that was friends of me
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