| Do you remember the time, when the purpose and the rhyme, was to see the souls
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| affected
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| But now its to man, every purpose and every plan, to whom the praise is directed
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| We live out dream, make the crowd scream, but turn to yell at the sound man
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| Since where and when did we stop checking the word and begin to start checking
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| the sound scan
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| Remember when shows were for souls and rhymes were for flows
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| Now we spend one minute to pray, if even that for each day, but spend 2 hours
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| checkin our clothes
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| What happened to the passion we was having that was sparked in the begining
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| But we’re quick to cry, point the speck in your eye, but even quicker to
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| justify our sinning
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| We’re wuick to diss and raise the fist to justify the things that we do
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| But for every finger we point at them, just remember freind there’s 4 more
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| pointin back at you
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| How and when did it all begin as ministry turned to industry
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| Cause did jesus need a manager, record label, ditributor, or even a boooking
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| agency
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| When troubles came, did he call upon the name, or turn to a lawyer to handle it
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| Why do we ask God last, ignore the past, but be the first to ask our management
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| Cause next to him, our glory’s dim and truely pales in comparison
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| Why does every move we choose seem to revolve around
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| We can get our groove on, but yet worry about comin on to strong
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| Yet we water it down so much there ain’t even nothing left to chew on
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| Souls become sales, and sales become a salary
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| Give the crowd something to feel, whine about keepin it real
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| But dont try to keep it to reality
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| Yet when its all over and the mic is hung and its all said and done
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| It won’t matter how many battles i |