I used to head to A. G. most Sundays truly Right until my pops popped in another assembly Up in Abj, the irreligious allow arch-bars A friend told me once, never allow wack bars
So I dug into the Spirit I am in it cause I won it Shackles made of responsibility But I dance Yeah I praise By God l’mma glorify the Elohim
No need for the pressure or the inhibition That meat for the idols has become our culture But all the cattle and the hills are mine in the Lord I used to cower, now my freedom got my brothers Michael Jackson in disapproval.
Even if the sunken sun Tucks in the radiance Of your Glory I will worship
And if the birds Sheds of their feathers And start writing letters To petition the coverage Of your Love….I will worship
Though the mountains May mount up their shoulders Like platoons of soldiers To fight the greatness Of your might I will still worship
Let the waters Overflow it borders And join forces with its brothers To alter the Altar Of their father I will worship
In the tininess of my voice In the thinness of my cords With the deafness of my breath From the creeks To the street From battle to castle
I will always Lift up my eyes Bring down my knees to your heels Stretch out my hands like the sand And bow in awe for you My all belongs to you
And I will not be silent Rather be violent Serving in your presence Because my life without Your essence Is a sentence without sense NONSENSE !
Let men cook up theories of Evolution I will stir up an army of Revolution That will invade Nations With a resolution That you are the God of all creations
I will not stop to give my Worship To your Lordship Because if I was not caught In your courtship I will have been a lost sheep Buried in the belly of hardship
Beyond the measure Of magnitude, Amplitude, latitude and Altitude I will worship
So much to say but it all seems shallow What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow Now I say I’m made when I make it to a heart Lord knows I am no longer at the start
But I live life like I’m a responsible baby And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi Only time I cry is when I make a battle cry And when I crack after conquering the pressure
So much to type But I’m not the type Seen beyond the hype I’m a prototype
“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…” But my brothers still prefer to attack the kraken I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day So do research when you’re fixing to advise me Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained
But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated And the arm of the mighty get deleted
I put my trust in God, not environment or state I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.
We are not men who walk down the street with our pants reaching out for our legs Neither are we those that make their mouth ovens where nothing is baked except their lungs, we are men who inspired the first breath of God We are tongue-twisting thunder talking teachers Read that again and see how we make mysteries a cup of tea Have you seen us move our lips like choir directors to conduct the movement of souls in the world? These are ways we make the world our brothers, no borders with our words We are not always wielding what’s rightfully ours But you can be more than sure what we’ve got is true power We do not waste our time on spades and knife when we’ve got words lying right on top our hearts Our battle cry is “Abba Father”, we were not thought to loose We are on the attack, our victory already secured The gates of Hades fall at our feet as we deliver those once lost Ordinary meat doesn’t make up our muscle, ours are made of blood dripping from the cross Cause we have learned to work out our salvation, by going as the spirit instructs We love because we’ve been loved and taught to love We tsunami because power birthed us and gave us authority
So much to say but it all seems shallow What is it that I have made that time didn’t swallow Now I say I made when I make it to a heart Lord knows I am no longer at the start
But I live life like I’m a responsible baby And most of my blood fam don’t know the QuChi The only time I cry is when I make a battle cry And when I crack after conquering the pressure
So much to type But I’m not the type Seen beyond the hype I’m a prototype
“Come to me, all you who are heavy-laden…” But my brothers still prefer to attack the Kraken I have plans but I can’t foresee the next day So do research when your fixing to advice me Sold at the park, yes I was only beaten by rain Give me a mic, yes you’ll see just how much I trained
But sometimes the swiftest feet are defeated And the arm of the mighty get deleted I put my trust in God, not environment or state I put my hands to work, some are celebrated late.
The news of the free fat forest guard
The humble bird it had as its breakfast
The noise of the resenting jungle dwellers
And the anti-poaching authority
Is a bittersweet jingle for a product you dare not buy.
The parrot that dares spread this ungodly news
Ends eventually enslaved by the freedom in the cage
Singing special songs to the ears of the chief ensconced
In his palatial power-filled pulpit of pains
Inflicting.
You dare not tell thy three brothers what happened
Or the mice and their muse would feast
On your glory
Kiss you with lips of Judas
Deny you as though they truly are Peter’s apprentice
Before big brown fowl crows
A warning that night never loved plain soul
Christ a poet 