This is a song about "Lord held"

And then held it for ransom

Flyer then the rest of them

My faith's grown, you can check mate, i pray to the lord

Right past the poor in clothes they can't afford

Maybe we shoulda held on

Full of shit, like i ate that john

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

Of opposing, resenting it, held it in doleful depressing pit

All you need is your passport

You say prasie the lord

Peace be upon him my lord

Manahattan and 40/40, no 40’s but rose poured

Straight to my partner room and let him beat it like a keyboard

He pushing cause his goal's to be higher with the lord

Praise to the heavenly lord.

Fresh out the airport