Hip-Hop-cracy

VERSE 1: Where my riders for life in this rodeo? / who know what's it's like to have been Pinocchio / and living the life of slang and colloquial / let me take you to school like parochial / Tokyo got heat for your Nokia / Hip-Hop worldwide inappropriate / but when it tries to make God an associate / even your phone ringer brings the atrocious / back up young buck, I know I stretched that word / ain't nobody hear it, you ain't have to stress that word / ain't nobody fear it, you ain't have to stress that word / but when people say they got the Spirit, stress that word / now Hip-Hop music makes the world go round / on a turntable axis and a vinyl ground / needle over the equator and they dropped it down / now that pop and that click was a static sound / now that click and that pop is an automatic round / Hip-Hop wears an autocratic crown / who gonna tell this Art anything now? / cause Hip-Hop can't even hear Hip-Hop now //

VERSE 2: So as Hip-Hop rocks to the break of dawn / and don't nobody leave till 6 in the morn / and all come home like the Children of the Corn / just here to make a killing and they gone / Hip-hop used to say, rock on baby bubba / now it's dang diggy dang da dang, more baby mothers / and less men at work / and that's even from the windows to the walls of the church / and it's becoming a concocted mixture now / we record contrary tracks and try to mix them down / and people so confused they don't know what to do / I heard a brother leave the church talking bout, holler-Lu / another cat talking bout, praise the Ford / the same cat won the most pimped out church van award / and though I've never seen guns, I did see a guy pull out a knot and start speaking in ones / another said, pot is good all the dime, and all the dime pot is good / and if it ain't hit your town then it could / Hip-Hop-cracy don't discriminate by block or hood //

VERSE 3: Well now if Hip-Hop is gonna be true to life / I'm telling you, Hip-Hop gotta be true to Christ / cause as the Hebrew writer cites / that His creative endeavor made all things and holds all together / so that kick and that snare that jerks your spine is / cause God made noise work by design / so it's divine and not by chance / that you can make a hot track or do a little dance / or write a little rhyme / ain't that crazy? / words that sounds match stimulate the mind / and what if you can write a verse? / how you paying homage to music's Maker with punchlines of curse? / and the stanza's that modern man does / are full of vanity, vulgarity and propaganda / but I guess that's this age, we thugs and fools / we even stick God up saying, run the jewels / but God ain't the type to just lay down flat / and put His hands behind His head and turn His back / He's the type to look right back down your pipe / and see the cross in the crosshairs of your site / and be like, oh you sticking Me up? no you not / I'm loaning you My stuff, but you on the clock / and when the last tic-tocks, I'm coming for your block / to see what you did with My Son and Hip-Hop / so woe to all men who've abused the craft / with unjustified math and filthy cash / will a man rob God? / no indeed / but that's the sin and attempt of Hip-Hop-cracy //