Don't you remember you told me you loved me baby?
You said you'd be coming back this way again
Baby baby baby baby ohhh baby
I love you, yeah, I really do
[Saigon]
Uhh, it's real
Dear Lord, yeah
This letter is from Saigon, the Yardfather
We fucked up Lord
Will, talk, to 'em
I tell 'em
It's alright, it's alright
I know my rent is overdue, they 'bout to shut off my light
And even if I get a job, too late, you're too right
Gotta do what I gotta do to get this loot up tonight
It's alright, I write a letter dedicated to God
First I'll thank him, without him I'da never made it this far
But it's hard tryin to think of why he not gettin involved
It's a lady with a newborn baby livin in the car
The police is beatin us up, the hurricane is eatin us up
Katrina flood water was deep as a fuck
Dear Lord, are we ever gon' receive a reward
for all the sufferin and pain and misery we endure?
Just like Trans-Atlantic slave trade, the AIDS, the crack
When are we ever gon' get paid back?
PS: write your boy S to the A back
And tell Luther we got a joint we gave that stays on playback
[Chorus]
