The official lyrics for rapper Meek Mill single “Pray For ‘Em” off his new EP 4-4.
(Intro)
DC, unos, dos, tres, cuatro
Free El Chapo!
(Verse 1)
f*** your b*tch, get a bag from her, then I never call her
Now she trippin’, goin’ crazy, ni**a tell her let up off us
OGs see me comin’ through and they say, “That’s a baller”
That’s that ni**a really started from the bottom really in that order
Make a call, bring them plans down
Smokin’ loud like surround sound
Ni**as wanna come around now
Cause they know that Milly got the crown now
Put my mans on, put the crown down
Tell ’em turn up
When it come to action, ni**as ride with me
Screamin’ murder
Ni**as fallin’ off, b*tches fallin’ through
Callin’ plays like an audible
Get that money, what you oughta do
Need the plug, got them ni**as callin’ too
Put you on, ni**a, put you on, I can put you on
What you doin’, ni**a, what you doin’, ni**a, what you doin’?
Get the bag but don’t write triller
You around cause you paid ni**as
In the dark when we spray ni**as
When we run into you, we ain’t playin’ with you
Meek put a rapper on CNN
Ni**as said I wouldn’t eat again
I just counted 5 mil’ in cash
I’m a real ni**a they won’t see again
(Chorus)
Pray to my God we don’t go to the feds
We don’t go to the feds
I pray all that money don’t go to my head
Don’t go to my head
I pray on my Glock when I’m goin’ to bed
When I’m goin’ to bed
Now pray for the suckas that wanted me dead
Cause all of ’em dead! F*** ’em
(Verse 2)
People locked me, put them chains on me
Wonder why I got these chains on me
Audemars, I got a range on me
Sh*t a hundred thousand ain’t a thing to me
What’s your range, homie? This another level
Flood the Rollie, get another bezel
She don’t dig me, get another shovel
Go and get the money, we don’t ever settle
Went to jail, came back home, then I got rich, damn
Went to jail again, then I came home then I got Nick, damn
Ni**as prayin’ that I go to jail again so they can pop sh*t, damn
Only trap ni**a doin’ real numbers spittin’ hot sh*t
Ni**as hatin’ cause my numbers down, what’d you do, 50?
20 somethin’, I did 250
MAC 11 hit you 20 times, now you Harlem Shaking like you Diddy
Pop ni**as spittin’ melodies when it’s really nothin’ they can do with me
Ballin’ on ’em ain’t new to me, f***in’ b*tches ain’t new to me
Summers, summers
10 summers I’ve been at my tempo like I’m Mustard
At the Grammys with the hustlers
With the trappin’, you a busta
Spillin’ lean on the red carpet
Phone tapped, I hear the feds talkin’
Still trappin’ out the bando
Moonwalkin’ on that damn marble
Ballin’, ballin’, ballin’, ballin’, ballin’
Ballin’ on ’em like I’m James Harden
I don’t drive it if it ain’t foreign
I don’t f*** it if it ain’t foreign
Still eatin’ and I ain’t tourin’, ni**a gettin’ it
Got that ladder with me with the 33, I’m Scottie Pippen it
(Repeat Chorus)
(Outro)
Ballin’, ballin’, ballin’, ballin’, ballin’
Ballin’ on ’em like I’m James Harden
I don’t drive it if it ain’t foreign
I don’t f*** it if it ain’t foreign
Still eatin’ and I ain’t tourin’, ni**a gettin’ it
Got that ladder with me with the 33, I’m Scottie Pippen it
