[Intro]

[Verse]
What's a non-believer to a God?
N***a, that's a dead man
Wake up in the morning, say a prayer, get the chopper off the dresser
I ain't never been a scared man
Cause scared money never made nann
And trauma made a pussy n***a break dance
I turn water to wine I'm in control of the time
N***a I'm one of a kind, most of these n***as is blind
N***a, I'm GOD
Speakin' through the eyes of a dope dealer
Speakin' through the eyes of a broke n***a
Dread head n***as from the nine
Baby in the dining room cryin'
Mama in the kitchen fucked up
Semi-automatic still tucked
Run up on some action, I bust
Catch a n***a lackin, I bust
Ain't a motherfucker around me I trust
I'm GOD
I had a dream that I robbed Donald Trump, n***a
Tied him up, threw his ass in the trunk
You want beef, I'll treat you like my lunch, n***a
You gassed up, I'll catch you at the pump
Introduce you to my pump
Make a n***a see the light: Thomas Edison
Fuck ten steps, I'm ten miles ahead of ya
I remember we was on the block sellin' medicine
Influenced my n***as
Changed the way we was livin'
Bout to make me a million
Most of my n***as is chillin'
I chop the work in the basement
Then put the bank in the ceiling
Your life and death is in my hands, don't make me make a decision
I been a real motherfucker since birth
I been killin' these n***as since Earth
I'm checkin' these n***as like the first
Make a n***a praise GOD, no church
Traded in the malt liquor for the black bottles
Traded in the thot bitches for the black models
GOD came first, n***a Money Black followed
Fuck wrong with these n***as?
Goddammit, motherfucker, I'm GOD
In the flesh n***a
How you better than the best n***a?
The best feature of the future is the past
Treat my first dope sale like it was my last
If you gettin' money then you know I'm on ya ass
Run up in your house, take the cash, leave ya body in the stash
Expose me a n***a, no flash
We the holders of the light, these days are the last
Muhfucker, I'm GOD
But the devil still test me
Stay in yo' lane, why the fuck you wanna test me?
Writin' all my rhymes on a Money Block canvas
Streets of the Chi full of Money Block bandits
Truck fulla coke, rental car from Avis
Mama tried to tell me that my rhymes could save us
My cup runneth over, I ain't even pourin'
Heaven or Hell, n***a tell me where you goin'

[Outro]