Interlude: (Mike Tyson Speech)
Chorus:
Jesus pieces, Jesus sandals
Pardon the piggy bank pockets, that ain't for Muslums
As-Salaam-Alaikum, peace to holy people
I'm stepping up to God, but I just
Feel a lil creepled . (n***a)
Verse1:
This sh** creepy ah-huh, at least you think so
Is this some typa sh** that make n***as wanna pray more?
Is this some typa sh** that make n***as wanna sell they souls?
Jeeze, gosh, damn, Muhammad, Allah or Ali, go
Lord have mercy on me, gimmi that lambo
Jesus peace gettin heavy homie, this holy swag go
Crucify this beat dunni, you know I nail this sh**
Ill-Flow-Disease gali, we resurrect you quit
Like game over, your time over
Man I got this sh** like a nappy on ya
sh**, smell that
Sit back this a villain take over
Tryna get more dough than a pa**over
Bang bang bang, bring the shots over
Yall hangover, 'fore the night's over
I need a crossover, this my last
Supper
Hook:
But yall n***as can't run this sh**
Survived the suicides
That's when I lost weight, on hooks I'm heavy weight
Hunger for the game, the paper chase
That's when I mumble through my daily
Grace
Like "thank you lord for my daily bread, and bless the hands...mmhhh, Amen."
(Chorus)
Verse2:
Bread and wine, I'm tryna find me some Jesus
The wise pray for the youth and they tell us the church needs us. (aahh)
Sins of presumption, a cheek was kissed by Judus
Power of a mob shakes you, till Peter denies Jesus (Jesus, Jesus)
Hell will do ya, before you'd say hallelujah
Ma I've been skippin Sunday School, just to rap with them NuSkool
Preach n***a catch your breath, n***a preach
Breath the holy spirit till they think you him, Pastor Chris
Mxim man, f** all dem hoes
I'm feeling Godly with my O, and I'll be good with extra hoes
Lord knows shea, Lord knows
I'd need more change 'fore I sell my soul
And I'd need more Gold, and I'd need more shows
And I'd need more rows, and I'd need more blows, Oh
Bridge:
Keeping the lines on point like i"m a general
Sulute to NuSkool , preach on that Nu-Bible
"Hustle Hard, k** Swag" that's the Nu-Gospel
Shooting stars, Machine guns, where your old pistols?
War, the sound of an old riffle
Fight for your life, you wake up to a royal rumble
The youth dying at the bar, shots on a double
But I still keep it high, cup a double
Outro: ( Uncle Ruckus' exorcism)