Ayo... Bless these streets... Bless these meats... Capin' these suckas while I sip on the blood of Christ, bitch. [Verse 1] Rollin’ deep in the Vatican, rosary swingin’ Gold chain Jesus piece, my choir boys singin’ Holy mob priest, I’m the goddamn don, Sippin’ Chianti with your bitch on the lawn. Pope mobile tinted like my sins in confession, Drop a verse harder than a Mafioso’s lesson. Blessed with the vestments, rings on ten fingers, That incense ain't burnin', that’s kush, let it linger. I’m baptized in vodka, confirmed in rage, Preachin’ from the pulpit with a TEC-9 gauge. Slap a bishop with a breadstick, scream “Mama mia!” Then I vanish like I dipped in a Roman pizzeria. [Hook – Choir of Drunk Monks] Pizzaballa in the hood, blessin' bitches with the steel, Pope hat cocked sideways, doin' donuts on the wheel. Sanctified thug life, Vatican on my chest, Say grace before I murk ya, then I lay ya ass to rest. (Amen... bang bang) [Verse 2] Holy orders? Nah, more like mob ties, Slappin’ suckas silly while I break bread with wise guys. I ain’t celibate, I celebrate, pour 40s in the font, Got communion in the chalice, now your girl want what I flaunt. Spaghetti-stained robes, sauce thick like my clout, I exorcise your demons then I knock your lights out. From Jerusalem to Sicily, I’m feared like the plague, Crucifixin’ enemies, drippin' swag in Versace suede. Hit you with that Latin, veni vidi vaffanculo, Your faith got shook when I slid through solo. Gospel in my Glock, scripture on my clip, Turn the other cheek? Naw, I let that motherfucker rip. [Hook – Choir (drunker now)] Pizzaballa in the hood, blessin' bitches with the steel, Pope hat cocked sideways, doin' donuts on the wheel. Sanctified thug life, Vatican on my chest, Say grace before I murk ya, then I lay ya ass to rest. (Bitch, that’s holy beef! bellissimo!) [Outro – Spoken word sermon with gunshots] This ain't no Renaissance painting, it's a drive-by mass. Confess your sins while I roll past yo' ass. The Mafia made men? I made saints and martyrs, I’m the goddamn Pope, blessin’ hoes like starters. So hail Mary, full of Glocks, Pizzaballa 'bout to bless these blocks. And when I die? Bury me in a calzone with a blunt in my hand, bitch.
