The Gospel (Live From Auditorio Nacional Mexico City, Mexico)

Oh yeah, coming through with my Shaolin crew

Two cent for a case, gimme St. Ide's brew

In the midst of broken bottles and crushed up cans

Methtical's in a jam, oh how dry I am

With St. Ides in my system

Crack another I'm blessed, let's go get the next one

And get over, the object is to stay sober

Lay on the sofa, better yet, dial my chauffeur

Call me the Wallabee Champ, stretched out, could never be Son

Ricochet daily hit the deli for a cold one

Naturally blessed, yes, my rap is like a laser beam

Laser beam, laser beam, laser beam

Uh, uh, uh

Sing

So we all got children, products of the ghetto

Momma cooked the soup, daddy did the yelling

Uncle was a drunk, cousin was a felon

When he got pitched, he told them he wasn't telling

Auntie was a cook, her husband was a crook

Cause every job he had they be paying him off the books

Ghetto university, knowledge is all it took

In a tenement I was listening to the hook

Change gon' come, the spirit of Sam Cooke

When the feds coming, everybody be shook

Now we doing life like Eddie Murphy and Martin

On the chain gang, I was singing into the coffin

The roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks

Couldn't blame me, I'm just giving the facts

I'm tryna hit the top, cause' bottom ain't where it's at

Everybody got a past but you can never go back

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Sing

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)

Telling you like it is, how we ever gon' live?

If we ain't getting money, how we feeding the kids?

It's a revolving door, where brothers be doing bids

I know it sound wrong but the door will be what it is

Survival of the fittest, this poor girl the illest

Broke parents and black cats give me heebie-geebies

Life seems hard but nothing ever comes easy

Whatever's in the dark, can always become the light

If you ain't in a battle, how you gon' win the fight?

I gotta speak the truth when I'm up in the booth

The streets be flying birds but they don't be on the roof

Poverty is a pain like you pulling a tooth

Told the streets don't let me go like I'm Bishop in Juice

Roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks

Couldn't blame me, I'm just giving the facts

Tryna hit the top, the bottom ain't where it's at

Everybody got a past but you can never go back

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Sing

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

(Gotta sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

Oh, oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh, oh, oh

(Sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

(Sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

(Gotta sing)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

(She's a king)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

And they sing New York City

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah