| Time, time is very precious to me. |
| I don’t know how much I have left and I have
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| some things I would like to say.
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| Hopefully at the end I’ll have something that will be important to other people
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| too.
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| Stand up, sit down, stand up again
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| Morse Code sent to God, are you listening?
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| He must have been too busy fixing other shit
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| No call, no response shows the opposite
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| We confess to the man who was faceless
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| I still do the same but to thousands of strangers
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| Went through some changes, some said I’m faithless
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| 'Cause I replaced the altar with a basement
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| I often fought the explanation of where people go when their bodies let go of
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| the soul
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| Does it just turn cold?
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| Or do we get judged and told where to go?
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| And if so, how the fuck would you know if nobody came back and said I’m telling
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| you, bro?
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| I could never get past the shit that was spit out the pastor’s lips
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| And the rapper’s started making more sense
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| I guess that’s the reason that some people cringe when they kids get a hold of
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| my shit
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| If the grip of a God is insistent on not questioning if he truly exists
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| No wonder that I got caught up in the music it filled my spirit to the brim,
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| amen
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| Motha fucker
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| This is my offering card
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| The only thing I have to offer is bars
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| The only time I felt like I was talking to God
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| Was in my Walkman walking with Nas
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| Alright see I be going to Sunday school every week
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| In the back trying to read, but see that something was off
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| Maybe it was 'cause I was trying to huddle in the yard
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| Preacher didn’t connect when he would mumble the Psalms
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| I was in my head and I was bustin' with Pac
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| Takin' off my wifebeater and getting drunk in the park
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| After that part, I found God, it wasn’t Jesus
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| Some psilocybin and the ink released him
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| I began to hold communion every time my music came out the speakers I used it
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| And it fuled my movement I believed in, voice of reason, just me and my Adidas
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| And I could achieve it, I put my hand over my heart, pledge allegiance
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| I solemnly swear by the faith that raised my since Kool Herc dropped the needle
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| The South Bronx, that’s hip-hop's Egypt
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| The word of our God is manipulated and twisted by the same system
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| That is infiltrated and falsely interpreted Jesus
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| One life, one love, one God, It’s us, treated your neighbor how you would want
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| to be treated
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| The universal laws of God, don’t look too far it’s right here, us human beings
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| The spirits right here and I don’t have to see it
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| Now every time I want to connect with God I put my headphones on
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| Then I nod, grab my pen, my pad, let it seep in, in
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| And that’s my process
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| And God’s always watching
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| Got God in my Walkman
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| Go ahead and top that |