Tekst:
Jim Jones On My Way To Church

', that's off top, fool You already know, wreck it boyz, go down like that What up Jones? Dipset, nigga Bitch my Cadillac is candy an' my pistol is pearl My

the bread Sheek, Zeke, hell rell and I got some in the feds I contradict what ever the government says For them boys on my back wit them bugs by my

] and the tongue-kissin' and one instance Turns some heated touchin' to some freaky fuckin' My situation is a bit of trouble See this affair is a bit of struggle And my persona and my

thou-outfit Show you how to get that powder shit Filed the fifth, jet out of it My proud of what is yo' turn, Jim so burned Live bitch, why kiss, on my

my Dips, with my Dips Fuckin' wit my Dips Wit my Dips, gettin' chips Fuckin' wit my Dips My Dips, buyin' whips Jus' fuckin' wit my Dips, my Dips Yeah

sold souls Slow toes, im so cold, my dough folds Killa! [Chorus: Jim Jones] So get your parachute, and row your boat nigga Signal your plane, yes we get on

slice Transactions by the building, uptown Harlem world Manhattan where we kill them (Taz) Plus my project way of thinking spending most my days drinking It's like I'm on my way

can see from the stars) When we walking on eggshells, when you talk on next cells (what happens) When you talking on fed cells (listen to me) and we all on

a bird with an extra clip in We on the curb where my niggaz dealin That's how my niggaz livin [Chorus] [Jim Jones] So now we ballin in the major leagues