Dead Preacher

(album: The Art Of Joy - 2014)

Wake up 6 in the morning, sun is steady shining
The blinds rising, I'm yawning, ready to get this money
Kevin heartless, Eddie hustle, my struggle nothing funny
Open this book of tricks, magician dipped in Armani
Open this book of scripts, scripture flipping I'm running
Out of time to find scriptures slick to get money
Out the pockets of bodies, pick pocketing pews
Prophet is what they call me, my pockets profit off you
I retain the stock when I exchange the truth
My aim is not to click, bang, shoot at the jewels who's hanging round my neck, blue diamonds on my noose
A parable's what I'll preach, tithes rise when they confused
Convicted sometimes a 9 to 5 I can't, I John 9 High 5
And rob the saints, it's easy
I'm giving out masks today, a masquerade
They just doing what they master say, I'm passing lanes
Listening to Wu-Tang in my speaker, sipping my macchiato, gotta get my cream up
Got communion in the AM, hope they don't whine like crushed grapes
Blood pressure raising, heard a voice say, "Aye, You remind me of Balaam."
I heard about him before, two colors what I paint with
All I see is green like the Wiz when his mind changes
I take a puff of purpIe, I preach good when I fly with angels

As I stand before the people underneath the steeple
Kinda thinking twice like I'm repeating sequels
Then I think about my life, bigger than cathedrals
How it's flyer than a kite on the back of eagles
I'm good on getting low like I float with seagulls
You can't shake me, I ain't Haiti with a case of seizures
So open up the book of God, my motives hidden like it's living in some camouflage
Cameras are all around me, paparazzi feeling
Papa bought to rob the children up out they chill en's
My pupils to the ceiling, like students sitting on the roof, prayers loosed
I hope he hear it, never mind
Let's get in this text, a 100 or so characters in front of me
Tell 'em turn John 3, when the singers done like John B
My mind seems to be light like high beams
Read right into the story of God's son, my Nas stomach feeling funny
I can't focus, this problem I can't show it
The tape rolling, they ready to swim and I'm Frank Ocean
I think. Conviction gripping my neck and I can't choke
This hope is prying my eyes open, no one sees my soul is solar
The Son is coming for me, tell him wait
Entire place is quiet now, my wife's face is a quiet frown
My mind state is acquired now, I'm prostrate
My face is down, my mind is changed
I whisper vows, he listens now, I'm wowed how
He's everything I've been looking for
In the book I was flipping like a gymnast or a centerfold
For some sinner dough, now I know he knows this sinner though
So my soul was searching for a source to put his symptoms on
Now my soul is richer than it's ever been, heaven-sent medicine
Seen it in the middle of my meddling
Sin was in my skin but now his riches in my melanin
Now my soul is richer than it's ever been