Like Sviatoslav in his primetime
He dictates sound – Stalin's grind
His will's the piece, His bride; the machinery
Really… It's hard to beat
It has white keys, it got black keys
With the black keys you play Debussy ( )
See you're a key and I'm a key
Gee, it even has Lebanese keys
Melody's like a relay from one to another
From Christ to the twelve, Paul to Timothy
My father to me or from brother to brother
And the team underneath the beats, that's harmony
Peeps, I plead, never neglect to meet
‘cause major or minor, you still in the game
It's all good in the end – Picardy is His fame
Those given praise started
Out at I (God!)
He gon' end it like that
Perfect, authentic at I (Cadence!)
At times He hits us hard, it hurts
Yet habitually He
Una corda, ooh His piano is His “forte”
Like a tender breeze, that's how my God plays
He exposed Himself, develops the Church
Will recapitulate as King – it's Sonata form
Homie, this music's just a movement of a grand work
And it started about 2000 years ago
And it continues on, until God knows when