If Only You Believe - Dipset, Jr Writer

«If only you believe, if only you believe, I believe we’d get by If only you believe, if only you believe, in miracles so do I»

uh, big up the boy J.R. Writer in the building y’all

Only this time around, it’s sentimental

You know what I’m sayin'?

It’s miracles

Uh, watch how I paint this picture, let’s get vivid

Yo, my vision is just ill, I’m picturin’it still

How my life revolves around a miracle foreal

Vision it just vivid, so I spit it through a deal

A song album, wow, these miracles are real

Still, yet through tragics, you seen it, bet it’s magic

I said «I bet that’s magic», it’s like he never had it (word)

To his fans in the stands it was just extatic

I know the back of his mind he thought he’d never last it (true)

But he did, and he lived, like you gots to be kiddin'

This song goes out to them tsunami victims

Who got ditched homeless, without a spot to live in Family gone, not a car knorr a pot to piss in Kids ya livin', let’s start basically rebuildin'

A couple days y’all managed to raise a couple million (that's crazy!)

I ain’t spiritual, but it had to be God’s wonders

That helped Zeke through gettin’shot and hit with a car bumper, I wonder

uh, I’m just tryna show y’all man

If only you believe man, this miracles are real man

Uh, I need you to zone out with me though, dim the lights a little bit

Uh, yo, check it Through the trial with a girl, gettin’outta Lapearl

I would never think that I would bring a child in the world

It’s a miracle from seein’the birth next

To seein’the burp yes, first words, even the first steps

Goo-goo ga-ga, who-who ha-ha

peek-a-boo, I see you, you-who papa

Guy I’m just God blessed

This whole song is based why you seen Kan West, surivive through that car wreck

For gettin’away where murderers get at you

To my man down on trial for a murder he didn’t do Whoever thought we’d get through slavery and racism

Slavery was racism, pacin’through, hey livin'

To Martin for heart, a heart that was smart

The proudest step to Malcolm X for marchin’his march

To the cops when there’s trouble at the spot on the double

To firefighters pullin’bodies out of the rubble, let’s sing

Whoo!

Hey Killa, hey Killa now I understand why you call me the writer of writer’s

I feel like a miracle in the making man