Bees are buzzin' in their honey catacomb. All the noise seems to call my head a home. Can't escape the scratchin'. My blood makes a noise. It's hard not to play when there are so many toys.
For those of you that think gospel music has gone to far. You think we got too radical with our message. Well, I got news for you, you ain't heard nothin' yet.
(Spoken). For those of you that think gospel music has gone too far. You think we've gotten to radical with our message. Well I got news for ya'. You ain't heard nothin yet.
Get up! Get up! Get up! (Yeah!). Get up! Get up! Get up! (Get up!). She sings these words to me. She sings these words to me. . I look at you. And try to do.
Ghetto gospel, all thugs gotta pray, hear me Lord, yo. . If killin' niggaz is wrong, God forgive me for my sins. And all my evil thoughts like fuckin' my girlfriends.
Saturday morning, take the train for a ride. The sun is up, I got my homies by my side. Rollin' down the street with my sixteen speakers. Hitting corners on the beach, steady dippin'.