I rap like writin' lyrics is simplistic,
I hit the stage and tear the mic up like I'm sadistic,
knowledge of a mystic,
let's be realistic,
God is my witness,
so I'm gonna witness,
though my flesh is listless,
I'm bench pressin' His word for spiritual fitness,
my sins are too many to list,
But God died for this misfit,
I'm in love just a mite bit,
and there's no separating us from it,
He heals my soul like a med kit,
and it's God I rhyme,
He's the only reason I spit,
there's nothing better I must admit,
and I'll stay on my grind until my throat is slit,
or I'm fed to the lions,
thrown in a pit,
'cause I'm guilty,
the punishment is fit,
But I stand here victorious,
demons hit with a crit,
not from my own mits,
but they got spiritually licked.
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