Hey, healthy, wealthy

Hate it, name it, and claim it

Like sickness is a sign that you out of the will of God

I hate it like liars and preachers who reduce the King of Kings to a slot machine rabbit's feet

The audacity, ya'll know what I mean

Like thinking that Obama has completed King's dreams

I hate it

I'm sorry like we earned it, it's over

When the po-po pull me over, I shouldn't be nervous? Please

St. Angeles ain't get the memo

Playa, these billy clubs have evolved to tasers

I voted in every election, still don't trust my government

Sorry that's what happens when you're raised by a Panther

I believe welfare is a band-aid on cancer

The problem's still sin and only Christ is the answer

Married out my race because love don't see color

Neither does hip-hop, Odd Thomas is my brother

Watch me smother a beat and brothers attack me

And question my theology, I see no wrong in battling

Answer to the culture, roast the emcee sick

And listen up quick to every word you spit

I hate it like Fox News, CNN, TBN

A wack rapper charging mediocrity to ministry

Loose cannon bragging 'bout stuff he ain't accomplished

Time is slightly off and the devil is his accomplice

Whole orb is nervous and mad cause I ain't

And shaking in they jeans like phones on vibrate

The future of product pushing: penance penicillin

Best influence the nation could ever wish when

Clock strikes seven, the perfect lesson is back

And hanging on my words like knowledge is crack

I'm still a foot soldier, with or without a mic

And they find me among the hostile, unashamed of the Gospel

Hate it, impatience and bad theology

A bill collector's calling me like I don't know I owe 'em

I hate that I owe 'em, hate it more that it's my fault

Hate when my sister cries listening to Satan lies

I hate what God hates, hate the saints' angst stick

Her kids keep facing such emotional drain

Caused quite a few confusions not saying what I meant

Admittedly administered multiple mismanagements

Painting pictures of how my faith looks

So I got my face in this Book man instead of this Facebook

Tax payer, mic slayer, ya'll just talk a lot

I'm realer than fat caps, my chisel-tip marks a lot

Ya'll can draw the line, find me in the parking lot

Cyphering with little tikes, offering the keys of life

Sing!