| My dearly beloved brothers ye who cook coke to crack
|
| Chop it sell it to fiends to make a profit back
|
| Dealers gamblers and hustlers pimp ballers and players
|
| Thugs thieves and killers let us bow in prayer
|
| Our father who art in jail I shall be thy gangster
|
| Thy kingdom of guns and thy will swing a razor
|
| On the street corners as it is in prison
|
| Give us gats this day and spray our daily lead
|
| Who testify against us we pray they soon be dead
|
| For thine is thy kingpin power and the glory
|
| Forever more amen now pour out some 40s
|
| For shorties 6 feet under hustlers and number runners
|
| Surround our Ghetto Christ at the last supper
|
| Tables of yayo cathedrals of kilos
|
| Gangster bibles and Desert Eagles
|
| Apostles with their liquor bottles
|
| Bullets with tips that’s hollow
|
| Silencers that fit the nozzles, banana clip that follows
|
| A gun aficionado the last Epistle’s novel
|
| Ghetto Jesus
|
| Let us all pray Ghetto Jesus
|
| His disciples
|
| First there’s Pistol Paul then there’s John the Ratchet
|
| Right across the hall two cats he sold his crack with
|
| Along with gangster James the other killer Andrew
|
| One like the Son of Man stood within the seven candles
|
| With was a number spot raided by a hundred cops
|
| But Ghetto Jesus stood there till a gun was shot
|
| And there was a Murder Mark along with Tom and Phillip
|
| They hung in the park
|
| Talking 'bout stacking mills up along with Money Luke
|
| Him and Peter Black the wild one of the crew
|
| Never scared to squeeze his gat and there’s the Nazarite
|
| Shaking three pairs of dice kiss them said the Anti Christ
|
| That’s the crackpipe he blew on 'em rolled them on the corner
|
| All his disciples got warrants
|
| Crackheads that’s the torment
|
| Hell followed the horsemen
|
| Jails crowded with lawmen
|
| Ghetto Jesus
|
| Let us all pray Ghetto Jesus |