[Verse 1: Datin]
Forget a punchline, these lines pack a punch, and they hit like a stiff jab to
The jaw, when I spit rappers, they'll call up the dispatchers
Like man down, send an ambulance now
'Cause truth hurts and it feel just like an avalanche plow
Through yo' speakers, huh, with the Spirit in me, I spit fire
Like an aerosol can bein' sprayed at a lit lighter
Brainwashed fans give you thumbs up, like hitchhikers
I think you wack and full of crap, like a kid's diapers
I compose art, like Mozart
With metaphors so deep, to catch them, you'll have to use sonar
And go hard as a crowbar, my whole squad
A bow guard, the army is Satan with no prowl
Uh, now, homie, you know who I'm down with
God Over Money and your [?] style [?]
Uh, these artists hide the truth from you
So we here to spill the beans, like a cleanup on aisle six
These dudes buggin', where's the black flag?
They garbage, go get the trash-bags
See, even though I flow grimey as a backstab
I represent somethin' greater than me; I'm puttin' God over that cash
Huh, hashtag-yourraptrash
So make like Mike Tyson, and hit you with a fall back fast
Sucka

[Interlude: Bumps INF]
Yo
[Verse 2: Bumps INF]
By nature, I'm kinda hostile to the Gospel that's written
That make me real sloppy, like the body condition
The bigger pun, then I run from the God that has risen
Man, I bounce like Ricky scratchin' lottery tickets
Haha! I run into the arms of the One who is still my joy
But will I fight a lot? (Nah) Illinois
Christ the God, it's a miracle I'm still employed
When I fall, like the wars of Jericho, it's still a choice
Yeah, I know, I gotta do better
Hell's hotter than rockin' two sweaters while in Cancun's weather
When I'm out of line, like rude gestures
And fall in sin? Man, you see the sinner fold, Hugh Hefner
Uh, that's a ridiculous statement
I'm ready to rumble like Buffle when he gets in them cages
So tell the Devil to bring it on, when I'm deceased and gone
I'm gon' be higher than Cheech and Chong with a freakin' bong
Gone

[Verse 3: Selah The Corner]
I been in this game for years, I was an animal before that
Son of Sam mixed with Hannibal before rap
By my side with the [?]
Holdin' up a convent while I unbuckle an [?] broad strap
I ain't glorifyin' nothin', homie, fall back
I just want the war back, show me where the sword at
That cocaine, yeah, you fought that
So I rap to them blacks sittin' with white keys, where the chords at?
I'm tired of these [?] rappers
They got the green movin' like the Packers
But when the beef and the heat walk, all of that, the reverse
Stars turn to rats when you're lookin' at 'em backwards
Get it? Stars, rats, backwards?
Most of these rappers who claim that they clap actors
And doin' they rhyme numbers, but they non-factors
And crackin' all in the sight of these youth hackers
They don't know the way that my God'll make
That bread of life what my God'll bake
So any now and then surround it, I accommodate
With 'em fast winds all around, like a fan when it oscillate
Return of the King, I'm preparin' em
Tell the adversary, I'mma come and put the fear in 'em
Slashin' and tearin' em
[?] on, had my hoodie on way before they started shootin' us for wearin' 'em
[?]
[Interlude: Bizzle]
Bizzle
Uh, yeah, uh

[Verse 4: Bizzle]
Homie, I was born for the war (Yeah)
Cut my own umbilical chord with a sword (Yeah)
Could of swore I'd be twenty-four in the morgue
Who'd figure Biz'd be on the tour for the Lord?
Not me! (No) I could have been lost and off in a coffin
And tossed behind bars with Rick Ross as a warden (Hehe)
Instead, I walk with a cross on me
And often I fall down, but in light of it all, God offered a pardon (Yeah)
And some of y'all will feel it's whack
Here, if it makes you feel better, I'm dealin' crack
I'm killin' my own, lettin' that semi clap
Till Traevon dies, that's when I grab a hoodie and act like I give a crap ([?])
How ill is that? Do cats really rap
Like trickin' on Christmas? [?] dealin' crack (Huh?)
Fam, you ever seen how a rock make a person act?
Coppin' kicks for the whole block, ain't reversin' that? (Yeah)
And no, it ain't beef when I see 'em
But I stand on my words when I meet 'em (Yeah)
But you so brainwashed, a rapper could be in jail for raping a little girl
And you'd throw a shirt on that say "Free 'em" (Truth music)
They want dope? I OD 'em, you want the hope? Consult Jesus
You don't want Him? Keep frontin', you gon' need Him
And yep, I'm a Christian
But you touch my women and kids, and you can trust you gon' meet Him (Yeah)
This ain't a thug talkin', this love talkin' (Talkin', uh)
The beats, the plate, the bars and my love offering (Here)
The game wicked, I'm done watchin'
I lyrically body 'em all and drop hip-hop off in one coffin (Yeah)
I know the truth hurt, so it's hard to listen (Hurt)
When the bars ain't about pricks or the cars I'm whippin' (Whippin')
Killin' n***as and doggin' women
And you probably so used to the word "b****", it sound funny when I call 'em "women" (Uh)
I bet they wanna kill me, and if not, they finna (Kill me, finna)
I'm here to expose every lie they give you
So whether I make friends or not, make ends or flop (Not)
I'mma go straight in, every chip, and the curve changes the block (Yeah!)
So I keep fightin', and no, I'm not Jesus
I'm just a repented sinner with a goal to be like Him
[Outro: Bizzle]
Bizzle (Yeah!)