/The lost I represent, I come from their strand/ Lodge in every town, nay help for fellow man/ White trash seekin' purpose, after a place to stand/ Instead submissive nature, a speech, a reprimand/ For where Stonewall met death at the hands of his own/ From where fucking James Brown picked up his microphone/ Where Mama told me "Son, please leave that mic alone.."/ Said "There's no future in you reciting poems"/ "Assimilate Stephen, if you know what's good"/ I dismissed, seekin' battles, tryna see what's hood/ The lost seed of Gehazi, see the sin in my pigment/ So if ye are pale, it warrants a mention/ I long to be righteous but I lack the dimension/ So I offer up prayer in a sentence.../ "Baruch Atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech Ha'Olam.." "Bismallah"/ Jesus died, 33, in 33 A.D., raised on day 3, from that.../Trinity/ Man...what a co-wink-e-dink/ Templar, Templar, won't you bring me a dream/ Kristos translated to Christ/ Take "K," the eleventh letter and multiply thrice/ Gosh...what's it mean when you burn that cross again?/ Got you lost again/ Pope was Hitler youth, bet he loved the Jews/ Bring your tithes, sacrifices, offerings, dues/ All from the seeds that seen mockery grew/ Your mind, body, soul, and your property too/ My rhyme be awfully, thoughtfully due/ In a nice lil' cherry mahogany hue/ A part of me, is artfully, just targeting you/ And juxtaposing art next to marketing truth/ Want purpose, but see none/ Hip-Hop don't breath none/ Body mummified, on display next season/ And Hov's bitch...sold out, everyone near him/ Vampire...slurping up Kanye's serum/ Fuck your band, blog, scene, and your dub-step too/ And you're cute lil' art? Man, fuck that too/ It's bleeding estrogen/

(Verse 2)
/Bathed in the light, like the son of the morning/ Raised myself from the dead, felt my body contorting/ Soul on cold, what feelings you hoarding?/ So many chips on my shoulder, becomes a cross I'm supporting/ Fuck a Wayne verse...Where my Primo scratch?/ I'm Hip-Hop, it's obvious, like Cee-Lo's fat/ Secreting southern heat, like a T-Mo rap/ Screaming "He's Hardcore!" like Little Guidos' back/ Why did I give up Christianity?/ Romans killed Jesus Christ and made portraits of vanity/ Could you imagine Malcolm's shooters telling his story?/ Work a mosque in his name, professing his glory?/ What would you say to that?/ Remember...this is only a rap/ I'm no prophet or anti, just simply a rapper/ Or one racially confused cracker/