The Gospel
Oh yeah, coming through with my Shaolin crew
Two cent for a case, gimme St. Ide’s brew
In the midst of broken bottles and crushed up cans
Methtical’s in a jam, oh how dry I am
With St. Ides in my system
Crack another I’m blessed, let’s go get the next one
And get over, the object is to stay sober
Lay on the sofa, better yet, dial my chauffeur
Call me the Wallabee Champ, stretched out, could never be Son
Ricochet daily hit the deli for a cold one
Naturally blessed, yes, my rap is like a laser beam
Laser beam, laser beam, laser beam…
Uh, yeah, okay
Sing
So we all got children, products of the ghetto
Momma cooked us soup, daddy did the yelling
Uncle was a drunk, cousin was a felon
When he got pitched, he told them he wasn’t tellin’
Auntie was a cook, her husband was a crook
Cause every job he had they be payin’ him off the books
Ghetto university, knowledge is all it took
In a tenement I was listenin’ to the hook
Change gon’ come, the spirit of Sam Cook
When the feds comin’, everybody get shook
Now we doin’ life like Eddie Murphy and Martin
On the chain gang, I was singing into the coffin
The roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks
Couldn’t blame me, I’m just giving the facts
Tryna hit the top, the bottom ain’t where it’s at
Everybody got a past but you can never go back
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Sing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Tellin’ you like it is, how we ever gon’ live?
If we ain’t gettin’ money, how we feedin’ the kids?
It’s a revolving door, where brothers be doin’ bids
I know it sound wrong but the door will be what it is
Survival of the fittest, this poor girl the illest
Broke parents and black cats give me heebie-geebies
Life seems hard but nothin’ ever comes easy
Whatever’s in the dark, can always become the light
If you ain’t in a battle, how you gon’ win the fight?
Gotta speak the truth when I’m up in the booth
The streets be flyin’ birds but they don’t be on the roof
Poverty is a pain like you pullin’ a tooth
Told the streets don’t let me go like I’m Bishop in Juice
The roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks
Couldn’t blame me, I’m just giving the facts
Tryna hit the top, the bottom ain’t where it’s at
Everybody got a past but you can never go back
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Sing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
(Gotta sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
(She’s a king)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Let me hear you say, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Say yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
