Hip-hop-cracy (The Cross Movement)

[Verse One] 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 World wide and appropriate 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 that 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 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 Two] So as Hip-Hop rocks to the break of dawn Don't nobody leave til six in the morn' And they 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 it down And people all confused and don't know what to do I heard a brother leave the church talking bout', "Holler-Lu!" And 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-Hopcracy don't discriminate by block or hood [Verse Three] Well now if Hip-Hop is gonna be true to life Then Hip-Hop's gotta be true to Christ Cause as the Hebrew writer cites His creative endeavors made all things and hold all together So that kick and 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 and do a little dance And write a little rhyme Ain't that crazy? Words whose sounds match that 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 and saying, "Run the jewels!" But God ain't the type to lay down flat And put His hand 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 that last tic-tocks, I'm coming to your block To see what you did with my Son and with my Hip-Hop!" So woe to all men who have 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