All we have in common is selfishness
I ain't buying faith and knowing are the same if you're selling it
If we can't know and faith is relative
Then we can take everything we think about Heaven and say to Hell with it
But see, I see that as a great thing
I think it's funny you're a Christian and for saying that you hate me
So just take what I say with a grain of salt
And try not to blame Satan – it ain't his fault
Stay focused, need your attention for three minutes
I won't be finished soon this is the beginning
I'm not into free spending, I don't need women
Snuck in the back door of rap and the key's in it, please
Listen while I speak visions
Fixing your attention span of rap that's been relinquished
Here to stay and I won't let you leave critics
And if you don't give a sh** - I'ma rap until you finally give it
Whatchu gonna do? I think they're onto you
Whatchu gonna say, how's it gonna taste
When you're found dead at the bottom of a lake?
I'll write you an orchestra of horror
Made violent by the violins
A symphony of sympathy
I'm by myself writing it
So if you're listening AND rewinding
You're probly playing Beau, Eryck, Mike, or Ivan
So if you ever wonder where I am
Look for the above mentioned; I'll be standing by them
Rest in peace to Shawn Chilton
How literal do we interpret being one of God's children?
When I was younger I use to wonder
If rappers really wished a disappearance on every listener who did not feel them
Barely a rapper I don't doubt in the booth
We gon' need to pour out more than 40 oz. for Proof
If we don't do something – rap will die – that's that
I can't figure out if it's black and white or abstract
And I'd hang up the mic and drop the pen
If I didn't know the predicament this writing has got me in
Won't say “I'm great” or something so you adore me more
My sk** level's up to the audience I'm performing for
Every 6 o'clock news there's a bulletin
Of somebody famous I would love to put a bullet in
And it's ironic to my attitude
But for every finger you are pointing there are three more pointing back at you
Whatchu gonna do? I think they're onto you
Whatchu gonna say, how's it gonna taste
When you're found dead at the bottom of a lake?
Your arguments are a cyclical bore
Back and forth, right and wrong, with the biblical lore
You complain about a physics report
While a block down an infant is born asphyxiated by his umbilical chord
Your lust is a fictional who*e
Harmless in your mind but it wreaks havoc on the physical world
Today's rap is gimmicks galore
And I'm convinced that it would be given bad news if it walked through that clinical door
Been called ridiculous before, but I'ma give critics some more
Pulling the edge closer to a cynic's a sport
So rich - you would picket the poor
Until they spit some Kessler at your house and threw a match that was lit on the porch
If d**h'll visit with a bottle I'ma polish three
And write an album of lyrics before I fall asleep
If church is your only concern for offering
And you can't see the bigger picture –then I'll put it where you all can see
I don't believe I have respect for the Vatican
All I see are power hungry separatists and manikins
Some people still have the nerve to disagree
You wonder why I'm angry and taking it to this degree
We could go to 3rd world countries and build waterfalls
Instead we renovate to have more spiritual alter calls
You shake your head and say I need the truth
I HOPE whatever god you believe in doesn't believe in you
Whatchu gonna do? I think they're onto you
Whatchu gonna say, how's it gonna taste
When you're found dead at the bottom of a lake?