#one of the people that was involved in the making of rappin for jesus

[john-winston-ono-lennon]

Yes.

You think if John Lennon was unironically an evangelical Christian he would have written and preformed Rappin’ for Jesus?

[dancingarchitect]

There have been times when I’ve wondered if Black Thought should be in the running for #goat emcee. This video is one of those times. My friend and colleague, drummer Morgan Childs, actually transcribed these amazing rhymes: Uh I’m sorry for your loss it’s somebody dead in a car and it’s probably one of yours The writin’ all across the window and the walls Whether it was true or false We shouldn’t have got involved Remember We walked past the teacher take the chalk and laugh We wrote punishments “I will not talk in class” Now it’s pistols punishing people for talking fast And all these innocent bystanders is haulin’ ass I hate to say “I told y’all” but I told y’all Things fall apart when the center to weak to hold y’all I’m just collecting what you owe to my owe jar You ‘bout to get swooped down on and stoled on Fools swear they wise, wise men know they foolish but we was headed for the web even before computers I never thought you’d give me a reason to do this Cain and Abel Jesus and Judas Caesar and Brutus I see intruders avert yer eyes I told you keep out of the hood Circumcise How could you sleep, I thought you always was the first to rise Eyo you heard the line Errybody plays the fool Well I be that exception to the rule The principal that hand deliver lessons to the school I was makin’ major moves My dollar déjà vu My mission when my ambition was brandishin’ the tool to be an icon wearin’ slippers made of python Get mine quicker ‘cause I’m slick as a pipeline Transportin’ the oil tribulation and toil hit the operation but I’m back in the soil Got my crown tilted, my gown quilted silk with cashmere burn the room down in a minute, built it last year Newsflash, I dodged the bullet that killed the cashier My homie told me to come with him to the masthead Them brothers said don’t go from written bars filled with rage to prime time television and your gilded cage Then forget there’s people in the world still enslaved I bar white at my wrist, and let it fill the page Gunfire and flare Sirens glare I’m in an iron chair with people who care don’t get the lion’s share When I don’t give a fuck then I ain’t fair I’m on a higher table people getting’ money like the finest hair Catch the herald I’m fresh chopped and beveled rap on a doctorate level so F Scott Fitzgerald Maybe I’m the new Rakim Maybe I’m Fab Pharoah Undergarments are armor be my intimate apparel Pre-Kardashian Kanye My rhyme play immaculate Same cadence as D.O.C. pre-accident Maybe my acumen is on par with Gucci rappin’ and gimme the proper respect motherfucker we back again For a couple things we lost in a fire the drive and desire to perform on a higher plateau I make that show lost in a mire Wondering how we got so far from inspired Look, when photos were sepia toned and record players were something you would keep in your home Yo the traveller the meanin’ Tariq he was known For the exemplary performance, uniquely his own I made the 21 pound for some a newfound religion When money’s put down there’s only one sound to make OGs and young lions equally proud to listen To seek what amalgam-ism an algorithm comin’ from where only kings and crowns permitted to darkness Where archaeologists found my image in parchment rolled into a scroll holdin’ a message for you It said the only thing fo sho is taxes death and trouble The anomaly, sworn solemnly high snobbery Freakinomics and war policy dichotomy That’s Heaven and Hades Tigris and Euphrates His highness, the apple of the iris to you ladies As babies we went from simolac to infomill to the internet and fentanyl when our consent was still against the will I got that detox for y’all The microphone doctor black Deepak Chopra I’m a griot that make you want to peacock your arm every heavy dignitary payin’ me top regards boy I’m three octaves far from the bi noc ulars so the smart money feelin’ get the heat out the car yo I’m K dot Lamar meets Tupac Shakur Got profiled by a few cops too hot to charge, listen somebody said a price tag was on a rapper’s head so we gonna see a nice bag when a rapper dead the mast black the flag green black and red they probably wave a white flag out the prasma shed (?) no doubt Yo the Game went they own route I can’t explain what these lame kids is talmbout Or how they fit they whole foot into their own mouth I put a couple bodies in a brown bag then I’m en route I’m sneaker shoppin’ with my stuntas size 8 prior to they release, cuz why wait? Look, in my state I got electrified gates for these blasé gods hatin’ at a high rate ‘cause I dodged fate then got great to fly straight if we ain’t family or friends then we don’t vibrate and I’m that Gun in yah face none of y’all safe If I catch you at the right time in the wrong place Slippin’ Sipping on somethin’ with a strong taste Like whiskey or bootleg bourbon with a corn base (Malavine?) take resemble a vehicular threat The mic I spray resemblin’ a sickle of death It ain’t strenuous to come from a continuous breath I set fire to the venue Imma spin you in step Rinse repeat You checkin’ for the sound of the beats I’m the hound I’m a creep I get down Imma eat Imma keep sumpin’ and lay a naysayer to sleep playin’ wit heat nobody and nothin’ fucking with ‘Riq yo these weaklings is claiming they cutting up in the streets Nigga peace You ain’t workin’ with nuttin’ but the police, listen you ain’t feelin’ to be nothin’ but the deceased, listen you in the tournament with a permanent crease I strike fear in the hearts of rap figures who mind bears the stigmas of time no black privilege From Boom Bap niggas To trap niggas you in the trap wit us When the lines is as vivid as the walls on that grab all the graph by the law to rap I reside between the seconds on the chronograph How much more CB4 can we afford? It’s like a sharia law On My Cherie Amour How much hypocrisy can people possibly adore? But ain’t nobody workin’ on a cure? My young boy Y’all just regular I’m an apex predator Brim stay fresh feathered up etcetera nevertheless I got a message of love One day a messenger yo my pen is Henry Kissinger Buzz Bissinger, look My caporegime Mr Noradeen and my oldest son Amin Saleem outta New Orleans Took a golf cart to the baccarat From the Waldorf What was on the walls? That depend on what you call art Imma say 300 k ain’t even in the ballpark I charge more just for awkward small talk So yes Who’s fuckin’ with it if it’s not the best? I get the lobby painted fresh upon my request It’s Kafkaesque His holiness stop the press that cobalt blue Reminiscing on my caress Lord, we got Padma Lakshmi for you Let her massage the back with black seed oil The foundation is firm, the flags need soil Me, I need royalty because I bleed royal Go through the veins to the brain fabulous and strange My journalistic range is a catalyst for change They got anybody to listen pissin’ flames and ‘cause the Hall of Fame got so many missin’ names I’ll acknowledge the original peoples not Oliver Y’all will the get the next challenger for Excalibur Um… more police for my core beliefs They tried to capture me and brand me on the cheek with a fleur de lis that side of my heart’ll be more discrete I’m international, my passport pages like War and Peace I’ve always played my part From the start Back in Philly where the triggers is mandatory to spark With the slightest inflammatory remark I have you in a livin’ a category apart, listen A grain of salt’ll tip the scales It never fails Walk on eggshells sleep on a bed of nails Criminal records like record sales Makin’ heads or tails we like Henrietta (L)acks Up in the cells My mother was a working class very loving woman who struggled, every dinner could have been her last supper (summer?) I come home chasin’ good for nothin’ half cousins and then walk in the crib to the smell of crack cookin’ she was introduced to that substance abuse or some of the strongest drugs that the gov’ment produced look, I even got excused by the principal My story is out of the dub dub interview I seen some ice cold summers, hot winters too I never thought I’d win Grammy awards with the Roots I never thought I would be getting’ long in the tooth My OGs told me “boy, you better go and live your truth” I am a walking affirmation That imagination and focus and patience gets you closer to your aspiration and just cuz they give you shit don’t mean you have to take it My words capture greatness sworn affidavits Yours truly the celestial being You stay seein’ pulling up in a fresh European High steppin out of it dressed to a T And not another got more soul, unless you Korean (!!!!) I’ve been Havin’ visions of Nat Turner holdin’ his master’s head like Yoric and Horatio in Hamlet Smackin’ it like a tennis racquet underhanded Send a message to the gram the eagle has landed Dressed in a military jacket made of canvass I am no guerilla/gorilla I just make ‘em go bananas I stand and wear black and green bandanas cocked hammers hairs on my chin is outstandings Can’t manage the weight of the world is just how I ball it Look, I’ve fallen from the sky to see my calling I’m not crawling I’m a free man like Morgan Seein’ manhood in the hood’s a damn good bargain If every black man don’t tap dance and every girl that got a fat booty don’t lap dance well I guess it’s something wrong, huh Niggas completely uninformed I don’t burn bridges, yo, I keep the haters round to fall I ain’t one of y’all peers I’m the sum of all fears Somebody stronger than me, who that? I mar ears like Obama I wish he had another four years Y’all some jolly good Hollywood squares I’m like “ahem” approach the author witcha offering I smoke rappers writin’ like my only offspring Being his excellency is to be exhausting You in the residency, you’re the one they call King Dolla Ali Baba the talented Mr Trotter Inside of my right palm the marker to stick My the big papa wig chopper Enter the Jaffe Jocker mawfucker I’m stronger than the coffee out in Kaffa All y’all make his vagina hot remind me of my kinda pop I step into the booth I’m a bull inside a china shop Mollywhopper washin’ of a cotton pickin body drop Every time we rock, yo they actin’ like it’s Mardi Gras Til the party stop ‘sgirl was like she there for rory gel (the fuck?) So we saw you pumpin’ that Earth Wind and Fire body ya Cool the Prada Dakar la Merino hard body up You seen another rapper cleaner, mami prolly not How it feel to be the best that did it I’ll admit it I’m visiting from planet bring these niggas down for minutes And y’all know I’m exquisite Wicked as Wilson Pickett The sickness I exhibit I’m too legit to quit it I don’t fake it til I make it, I take it to the limit and break it Never tentative when I’m bad I represent it A feeling just like chases Been a million places Conversation is how beautiful my face is People hated on how sophisticated my taste is Then I pulled up on these motherfuckers in a spaceship Panther mind I’m made of elements you can’t combine I’m at a level of intelligence you can’t define Einstein, Shakespeare, Voltaire, Tesla Recording artist slash psychology professor I preach for the east Never fold under pressure The beast from the east and I glide like Clyde Drexler Eyo my new name is Eighty Five Exes cause I’m the rap game certified specialist When I was reckless I was worried ‘bout the guest list I’m helpin’ rappers everywhere fulfill a death wish Yo Flex, I’m glad we made contact My nigga also know, this shit for combat Brain matta contain too much data I tell a story like fingerprints and blood splatter