They put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
They put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black

Super good
How many people endure that judgment?
The steeple is meant to usher the presence of Higher Power
But the reverend desires showers with seven virgins
And hours of heaven, lustful pleasures
A couple C cups and the essence enough to keep blood rushin'
I fuck with her heavy
I might jump in her belly
I might summon her friends just so we all function like Eddie
I treat it like an animal, plus the camera's on steady
Do my damage then go scramble leaf panties like levies
They gon' judge me no matter what I do, uh
So I keep my halo with a peace sign, give a fuck 'bout you, uh
When I recline, I'ma need a fee, never get enough, I knew
I barely even touched my food
We skipped the appetizers, I slid inside her
When I'm done, I'm like, "What the fuck I do?"
Now her head's on my sleeve, and my hand's on her weave
She wanna stay and parler and conversate over trees
But now I'm ready to leave
And I'm just wonderin' where my keys is at

They put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
They put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black

One time 'bout to pull up
One time 'bout to pull up
Tell them niggas stop doin' pull-ups on the stop sign
Assembly line with this Glock 9
We don't toss that, tell her put in her purse
We live this real life shit then put it in a verse
Bitches frequently askin' me, "Do them bullets really hurt?"
Can't answer no questions unless you really from the turf
But I can put you on
See your curves from them curbs that I swerved up on
Legs so smooth, the type of thighs you sniff a bird up on
Fuck the Summer Walker, no many how many times we done heard that song
Daycare on your back, scoop them kids up with the shirt that's on
Back to the block where niggas stay active, no drama teachers
Just pour O.E. Out for our lost ones and stay elevated like Balenciaga sneakers
Inglewood to Compton, Space Jam's on, shot it out with monsters
13 to your back, Trispy Thomspon
K.g. I'm like the chopper had a conscious
Every nigga gotta watch how he movin'
Every picture got a nigga next to Judas
Every nigga got his own cross to bear

And that's the reason that they put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black
They put a cross on Jesus' back
They made him crawl 'til his knees was black

This is Ye's Sunday service with killer and murders
Must have heard us comin', don't let them niggas in the church with us
This is Ye's Sunday service with killer and murders
Must have heard us comin', don't let them niggas in the church with us

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): Daniel Anthony Farris, Jayceon Terrell Taylor