Rappers try to tell me they're god
Or sell me their god
Well the bellies full of air don’t care dear God
Machiavelli on the air with a heli doing circles
Cuz they’ll murk you for a glare down here dear God
Got a hostile rapper selling me coke out of reach from the truth in their recordings
Got a Gospel rapper selling me hope out to preach to the youth in a pair of Jordan’s
Knowing damn well that they can’t afford ‘em
Guess the poor can't tell what they’re supporting
Say, know your master ain't no matter little meth little sex a little known fact
For the middle of the U.S. goes mad for a symbol when it’s dressed in gold
Ask, who can do all that and fill a dome after
And I ain't talking bout these known rappers
Wanna talk about cain or talk about Cain
All the same when your cane is a crutch
They came for the hunt of the game the ones who are lamed
No shame when they aiming for lunch they came for the bucks
Tryna get their fill, robbing sons maybe they came for the ducks
Phil Robertson eh maybe I’m explaining too much entertaining is such a thin line
You will find I’m on both sides of the sand try to throw a stone my man
Now try again with a hole inside both hands
Said a mind and soul is two fold
Like the hands I hold I do fold
I could fan the flames or be that flame to a fan
In a world that’s too cold
And I’m lost in it