"Sold My Soul"

(feat. Pastor Troy)

I sold my soul to the devil for a small price (Ya)

I walk through m**g hell, screaming thug life (Ya)

I sold my soul to the devil for a small price (Ya)

I got them n**s with me that he taught to g**g (Ya)

I sold my soul to the devil for a small price (Ya)

I walk through m**g hell, screaming thug life (Ya)

I sold my soul to the devil for a small price (Ya) Yeaaaaaaah

They don't let me in no church, so I came to you to confess

I got a thousand thoughts on my mind and about a billion things on my chest

What do I do? Pastor Troy, do I kill em (Aha)

Or should I let these snitches off the stage and beat and crack their cerebellum

Destines where I go to chill to hang around with billionaires

We coulda f**d dude up really bad and no one would have gave a care

Ever heard of being dropped off the side of a hundred foot yacht

In the middle of a school of sharks in the dark

With 2 slit wrists to a pumping heart?

I have this on my bucket list to be the one that let you go

And let you know that you shouldn't have never f**d with this

And Paul found one in his own home, it's on

Better understand I helped build everything you f**g see

From now on any white rapper that drops has gotta go through me

Cause it's some phonies they fake, they snitches, they snakes

And I swear to God when I go to hell, all of their souls I'm gonna take

Yeeaaah

One and one G

The Pastor Disaster Live from Hell Street

I'm coming like a murderer

Don't you know if you heard of the

Way I bring them choppers out

What the f**k you talkin' bout

Pistol in them p**s mouth

Bet you watch your mouth now

Put your bullet through them f**g windows at your house now

Smoking on some gunpowder, drinking gasoline

I spit diesel, and sweat kerosene

Mean m**r, I think I smiled once

First time that I ever hit the blunt

I'm pulling stunts, pulling cables on that paper

I will r**e ya, I'll duck tape ya and I'll take ya

There will be no one to save ya

You'll be begging me for favors

I'll be begging for my papers

Look at me now I'm the devil

Please don't take me to that level

Put the pedal to the medal

Ain't that m**r cold

It's the Pastor of Disaster and I don't have a soul

Ok I'm mic'd in with Tennessee

Everybody yelling out North Memphis

17 people, 19 pistols nobody in our line gets frisked

We go straight to the bar, f**k VIP

Unless VIPs gotta a bar in it and liquors free for me

Wyte Music we go hard ho, we go hard ho, or we go home, ho

And I might just f**k around and say whatever I want when I'm in my zone, ho

In this business if your white I really hate it for ya

On this road your unknowingly rolling on I pave it for ya

Your in now in my way I'm a fully automatic that will f**k around and spray

One phone call is all it will takes and I'll have G's coming from every way

You think you hard, you think you out

I'll p**a mothaf**king hex on you

I'm in one of the Mystic Stylez

You h**s can't even f**k with my lil homies

Wyte Musics in this b**h and some of you dudes are acting like these h**s on me

You got a problem with me, partner bring it to me

Remember 600 and 66 years before I met Paul and Juicy, Ya

I walk through m**g hell, screaming thug life (Ya)

And I was asking everybody where the devil hang (Come on)