Slave

“Truly, truly, I say to you, everyone who practices sin is a slave to sin." - John 8:34

It’s open season on the blackamoor…

And four score and seven
Only serves as a reminder
Of how far we are from heaven
Linkin’ us to a past
But we’re too easily forgettin’
The bondage that’s awaitin’
And treat it like a broken record

We scratch it up and mix it
Tryin’ to put a new spin on it
Thinkin’ that if we spend enough dough
That’s all we need to depend on
But those whips and chains are now whips and chains
Money stacks and diamond rings
As we tiptoe through the cotton rows
Chasin’ after the “finer things”

The same thing that is
Rainin’ down on Jupiter
Is the very same thing
That we’re willing to become captives for
The love of money
Is the mother of invention
Rooted in all kinds of evil
And limitless in its potential

Becoming a slave
Is much easier than we think
So many give up their freedom
Just to own a couple of trinkets –

Tinkertoys that pale in comparison to Zion
And precious jewels that will one day pave the streets
Our feet will tread on…

(cf. Hebrews 13:5; 1 Timothy 6:10)


Soli Deo Gloria,
Shon

M.O.E.

Dollar dollar bills, y'all!
The cash reigns superior
As long as the check is in the mail
Other concerns become inferior
You won't catch me slippin'
Because I keep my knot stupid
Even if the world would end tomorrow
My money tree would stay rooted

"In God We Trust" on my trust fund
And if it can't be bought with a Black Card
Then I don't really want none
Heaven's gonna have to wait
'Cause I ain't done gettin' paid yet
I got bands to make her dance
And the forecast is callin' for a reign check

Mind the throne -
Where the king stands alone
Caked up like a bake sale
In my million dollar home
Bottle Service on my breath
A new Bugatti on the brain
If I don't have that whip by the morning
Then I'll probably go insane

Money over everything
Nothin' in my hands I bring
You want me clingin' to the cross
But I'd rather hang on to my green and leave
Who needs bread for today
When there's more than enough for tomorrow?
I'll be too busy rackin' chips
To worry about all the sorrow...

I'll be too busy stackin' paper
To notice my soul is hollow
The blimp told me
"THE WORLD IS YOURS"
But failed to mention
That time is borrowed
When the credits roll on my escrow
And my page is finally turned
They'll write my legacy on my headstone:
HE HAD MONEY TO BURN.

( cf. Psalm 49:7, 8; Matthew 6:24; 16:26)


Soli Deo Gloria,
Shon

Rat Race

They say that – 
“Trap money good, but rap money’s better” 
But I’m chasin’ the King of Kings 
Not whips, chains, and cheddar... 
If you’re livin’ for that rat race 
You’ll only end up with a rat’s fate 
Trapped in a rat maze 
Until you break your neck  
Just to get a taste… 
  
Trappin’, rappin’, stackin’ 
Gettin' money in the rotation 
Got a steady cash flow, but your soul’s runnin’ dry – 
(Damnation) 
Sippin’ on that “you” syrup 
Instead of sippin’ on that Good stuff 
That purifyin’ Living Water 
And you’ll need way more than two cups 
  
Because I’m spittin’ like a fountain 
With a faith that can move mountains 
You see, the dead’s been risen 
So you know what that means – no body count 
Because when it’s all said and done 
It’s a casualty of one 
The death of death in the death of Christ 
From dark sky to Son rise – a new day’s begun 

(cf. Mark 8:36; 1 Timothy 6:10; Hebrews 13:5)

 

Soli Deo Gloria,

Shon

Posted via email from THE CENTER (ROOM 116)