Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Redeem, artist - Propaganda. Album song Crimson Cord, in the genre Рэп и хип-хопDate of issue: 21.01.2016
Record label: Humble Beast
Song language: English
Redeem |
| So what they gon' say about us, huh? |
| Early 21st century, humanity, when history tells the truth |
| America on the brink of war, with three countries consecutively |
| And the church? |
| Well, one part was making reality shows about decadence |
| And the other? |
| Man, they wrote blogs about how the first part was wrong |
| And the rest? |
| Well, they ain’t have running water |
| Or the governmental right to practice their faith |
| So they just died off |
| They say our nation is on it’s way to hell |
| As if it’s ever been in Heaven In the first place |
| It’s time to REDEEM time |
| He be morphin' the pimp, hustler, and rapist to co-laborers |
| And them muy mal female canines, come see the change in ‘em |
| It relates to the laymen, our mistakes ain’t go to waste, boy |
| The Redeemer did just that then sent us right back to ya |
| Huh, Wake up, come join the winning circle and come hang wit us |
| Swoop through, we stroll as royalty in full regalia |
| And don’t love the old us that’s pitiful necrophilia |
| The nasty made clean, there’s no rewind just redeem |
| It’s such a fortunate failure |
| And tossed into that sea of forgetfulness |
| Redeem, redeem |
| Helpless to change our past |
| But great was Elohim to redeem, redeem |
| There’s no rewind |
| Just redeem, redeem |
| It’s pieces of perfect symphony |
| A Mozart of irony |
| The Vincent Van Gogh that only paints with serendipity |
| He be dippin' His brushes into messy blotches of coincidences |
| And attackin' that canvas like every splatter had a destiny |
| Broaden y’all’s lenses a little wider you’d see that perfect symmetry |
| Redeemed |
| Boy, it’s all on purpose |
| I’m still off on purpose |
| My Papi takes the worthless |
| And brandishes a stamp of one-of-a-kind and priceless |
| A cosmic thrift shopper, Macklemore could only imagine |
| Buyin' stuff He made Himself from dust and words |
| In other words: us |
| And this is all my confidence for the 626 and the Exodus |
| If you certain you was blood purchased |
| Please come stand wit us |
| My dad was a preacher and a doctor |
| But with me he didn’t bother |
| Section 8 was momma’s wisdom |
| How we’d sleep but it was warmer |
| I would grieve, I would dishonor |
| I would speak but it was drama |
| Sleep while she was workin' harder |
| So that we could make it further |
| Failed school or smoke the money, guilt I’m sweeping on my father |
| As if his absence was reason for making my momma a weeping martyr |
| My efforts sandcastles that just wait for beaching waters |
| Until I heard who wrote my life, and saw that Jesus was the author |
| See, a bastard is robed in curses |
| What man has disposed as worthless |
| God chose to bestow a purpose |
| His show’s when they close the curtains |
| He blows on His coals of words, in our bellies they glow a furnace |
| The soul of a person that knows that he’s purchased will explode in worship |
| I hear stories that have passed, His invitations |
| Trash the antiques, past parade a pageant of his graces |
| Epistles of bone believe his blood is active validation |
| Weigh your faults against the cross and see who has enough to pay them |