Sunday Morning lyrics - 50 Cent

This is how I'm feeling right now, I mean I'm.. I'm blessed

[Chorus]
Me, I ain't got to send a usher around with baskets or talk to a choir
But nigga I'm cleaner than your motherfucking preacher on sunday morning
Me, I run the streets all week, hustle hard, I do work to get by
But bet I be the cleanest motherfucking in the service on sunday morning

[Verse 1]
I make so many mistakes, so many corrections
I'm so far from perfect, so many imperfections
But I'm a go getta, I get up and go get it
So if you're preaching prosperity, I wanna hear it
I make the hood look good, turn the base into base line
Punch lines to white lines, run from the one time
My verse is like a graphic scene, close your eyes
Now you seen the dope fiend lean
And you seen the pimp pimp hoes
The 4-4 blow and niggas puff dro
Like there's no tomorrow
Hit that pass that, that's the motto
You know jail's like vacation for my friends
They go away, come home and do the same shit again
You think I'm bad, man they don't give a fuck
They trying do what they gotta do to get a buck

[Chorus]
Me, I ain't got to send a usher around with baskets or talk to a choir
But nigga I'm cleaner than your motherfucking preacher on sunday morning
Me, I run the streets all week, hustle hard, I do work to get by
But bet I be the cleanest motherfucking in the service on sunday morning

[Verse 2]
I take the line out the good book an eye for an eye
Shoot me I shoot you back, I don't care if you die
First the sun comes down, then the sun goes up
And the coke price too when the Ds make a bust
It's freeze nigga, get the fuck on the wall and
Everything you worked for, they come to take it all
Man it's like they don't know what they taking
Hit you with the tazer, I'll have you sizzling like bacon
When you pray say a prayer for me, a nigga could use it
Through my pain there's a piece of me in all of my music
Go head you can judge me, I'm hoping you love me
I see I got it mastered, muh muh muh magic
Hocus pocus keep the bitches focused
Before we pop up on that ass with toasters
Lord forgive me I'm regressing again
Forgive me for that line and the rest of my sins

[Chorus]
Me, I ain't got to send a usher around with baskets or talk to a choir
But nigga I'm cleaner than your motherfucking preacher on sunday morning
Me, I run the streets all week, hustle hard, I do work to get by
But bet I be the cleanest motherfucking in the service on sunday morning