Black Jesus
Black Jesus

Black Jesus Lyrics Meanings
by Lil Yachty

Black Jesus Music Video

Black Jesus Lyrics

(Oh Lord, Jetson made another one)

Pull out them racks on a nigga, he's so funny
He talk the most shit, but got no money
Tough on the 'Net, but in person, a new Gandhi
Stand on my racks and I'm Mo Bambi
I mean Mo Bamba, and cost a new Honda
I need this with TiTi and with lil' Shonda
I get right, it's on sight for you newcomers
I got two solid fists for you mouth-runners
With the gang out in public, we ho hunters
Kick that bitch out the spot like a team punter
Think it's time I run up me a Bugatti
Got this bitch ridin' dick like a Ducati
Bought an AP plain jane out in Dubai
Actin' out for attention, the new guy
Got another lasso, need a new tie
Know some niggas who stuck turn E5
Know some niggas out West bangin' treetop
Made that bitch give me head 'til her knees pop
Switchin' sides on the gang, tryna ease out
Catch you slippin', we knockin' your teeth out
Tryna come down my block, need to reroute
Tryna say all that shit that you talk 'bout
Know it's cap in your rap, you ain't gotta lie
In LA with Zack B, yeah, a nice guy
In LA with Zack B, yeah, at Papis
I'm in Houston, ho hidin' with Tati
I just had me a smooth little ten piece
Run it up, stick on my back like I'm huntin' up, yeah
If I love my dollars, they gon' run 'em up
Quick to pull up with them 30s tucked

Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin' tall (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I got big guap, big killers, big pieces (yeah, yeah, yeah)
She wan' fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up all white, lookin' like I'm black Jesus (yeah, yeah, yeah)
And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Niggas sweet as shit, turn 'em to a Reese's Pieces (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Diamonds shinin' so damn bright, give a nigga seizures (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Nothin' make me more happy than backends
I'm straight in, no signal, them racks in
These new niggas' music is trashcan
He can't feed his fans, so they fastin'
He told 'em that's how he go Muslim
That bitch nigga ain't out hustlin'
I said take a sip, why you guzzlin'?
Give me my damn cup back, nigga
I'm too rich to be out here tusslin'
Boy, they just paid a rack for some 'Tussin
Hope you sick, 'cause that's all that it's good for
I wish that my big brother did more
I pray that my lil' sister live long
Paint the 'Rari all yellow like Armstrong
Got a stock with a stick, it's an arm long
Wow, heard they said I went broke, boy, was they wrong
I just cashed in a check, it's a phone number
Bitch, your ass on the porch like the door number
We gon' track your ass down like LoJack
Why they playin' with me? I need more racks
To the money, I'm runnin' up four flat
This shit right here gon' need four plaques

Run up, flatbread, lay low, stackin' tall (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Hit his head once, body dropped, rest his soul (yeah, yeah, yeah)
I got big guap, big killers, big pieces (yeah, yeah, yeah)
She wan' fuck the gang, told that bitch to write a thesis (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Pull up all white, lookin' like I'm black Jesus (yeah, yeah, yeah)
And my new crib fancy like the Saint Regis (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Niggas sweet as shit, turn 'em to a Reese's Pieces (yeah, yeah, yeah)
Diamonds shinin' so damn bright, give a nigga seizures (yeah, yeah, yeah)

Writer(s): Frederikus Van Workum, Joey Morrison, Miles Parks McCollum, Nicholas Luscombe, Tahj Morgan
Copyright(s): Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, Royalty Solutions Corp, PRINCESS LOLA MUSIC LLC
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind

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