When it started we was downed by church fallacy
As time went by we took on the appearance of being free
But in reality we're not, we're still trapped in the shallow mentality of gospel rap
These are the secrets of life, to some revealed
Remain hidden so all can understand the truth concealed
So, we journey, dropping theories of Christ grammatically, to awake those who sleep through lyrical caffeination
Bona fide creations bore fruit through verbal knowledge, as the apparatus of seeds, on good soil, had fallen, but calling of
Yet, y'all, into the beat, started to fade
Ascending, approaching death as the roots reached the pavement
Disciples of Christ, each reaching surface, blooming in season
But autumn sparks a vacation, influenced by niggers we did duplicated
Illustrations took form as gospel gangsters, exploited and victimised by industry-philes
Awaiting anxiously, I see emcees bearing fruit to be collected
Took root underground, as rats funnel through tunnels
Direction emerging, surface submerged within the harvest
Manifested by seeds of another that was invested
Unlike the rest, through the rain and cold, we stood the test
First ten, and twenty, then a hundred-fold blessed in this
Well pleased, so on the Sabbath day we'll rest
Six days, five seeds, prophesy is manifest
Motivated by what's being illustrated by those who talk loud thereby bringing distortion to both my optical and audio senses, which are responsible for the mirage of skill you're still trying to keep real
So, I'm here to manipulate or change the course of these events, to guide you toward the demise of your pretense
Therefore my strategic positioning for this offensive attack is fueled by your burning desire for being whack
So, how you react to this potentially volatile situation will conduct the symphony of sympathy you attract
The skies peeled back, I rained down fact on this Grits track
Static, air, hand-clap, whatever, I just rap
You understand to ill-coined phrase "gospel-rapper," but yet you turn heads off, like the mechanics of a clapper, until now
It's been a long time coming; now the sludge resides at the top, like Mr. Drummond
Evident to the inner-eye, no longer discreet
True motives get uncloaked, as words become concrete and tangible
Though the brothers begin acting stranger, anti-ambassadors of one debuted in a manger
Like orphans to the industry, nobody wants me
Passed around by foster-labels, wondering if they plan to dump me
One side is called "mainstream" but really I see no difference
Where's the fifty percent ministry, fifty percent business?
Currently it's ten/ninety with the latter always trailing, as the cross fades away with the realness of the nailing
Getting over using spiritual parameters to evolve your level in society; that's what gospel means to me
Rolling down the river of Christian emcees, wishing to knock them upside their heads with my oars, shatter their cores
Blood trickled from the pores of the fickle
Lose control from their fans, they being tickled
Hot-steppers get their peppers pickled
My question is this: how do you keep it real when you're synthetic?
So pathetic, unlively, in more aid than H.I.V.,
The way I see things, you're doing more harm than help with chameleonic skills
Latching on to flavours of the month for cheap thrills, arms floded on window sills
Finding oddities you call commodities
You false prodigies I'm judging, you're catching life sentences for your sodomy
I touch a cloud through well endowed imagination
Collaboration with pens sends your deejay on a permanent vacation
See, I dapple in work-placements, some kind of scrabble-type shaping
Fragments into stories, resulting in sky-scarping
I be taking lashes from them cats who cannot do the same
Fooling secular psychos with no shame, proclaiming Christ's name
Irregular writer or knights, I mean the mediocre artists
The spots I be in, the so-called hardest Christian rappers be discarded
And it's odd, when I catch their shows, they claim they ain't no joke
But your people map project blowed, and they be in the back straight taking notes
Fool, I rock both; my pendulum swings on each arena
I'm elevating gospel rap from Nashville to West Covina
Now, when it started we was downed by church fallacy
As time went by we took on the appearance of being free
But in reality we're not, we're still trapped in the shallow mentality of gospel rap
When it started we was downed by church fallacy
As time went by we took on the appearance of being free
But in reality we're not, we're still trapped in the shallow mentality of gospel rap
When it started we was downed by church fallacy
As time went by we took on the appearance of being free
But in reality we're not, we're still trapped in the shallow mentality of gospel rap
When it started we was downed by church fallacy
As time went by we took on the appearance of being free
But in reality we're not, we're still trapped in the shallow mentality of gospel rap
