[Intro –] East Side callin’, halos fallin’, Bible in my left, in my right, it’s the .40 talkin’. Concrete choir with a vengeance hum, Liquor light glow like the kingdom come. [Chorus – All 3, staggered vocals] Liquor store, church on the corner, that’s balance, Sin in the system, grace in the chalice. Gun shop gospel, poverty palace, Every saint got scars, every sinner got talents. Liquor store, church, same block, no silence, Holy war soundtracked by siren violence. [Verse 1 –] They don’t know the code, I decrypt through sermons, Broke through doors like I’m kicked by purpose. Rhymes encrypted in the dirt, reworded, Each bar twist logic till the pain resurface. I’m that glitch in the system, syllable surgeon, Every punchline cut clean through churches. Pray on the weak while the streets keep murkin’, Gun smoke blend with the psalm I’m murmur’n. My cadence calculus, sacred algebra, Countin’ my trauma like I’m weighin’ hallelujahs. Triple-time burst when I lace that stamina, Rap like scripture from the book of Amateurs. Now I’m back in the booth with a trench coat aura, Brainstorm thunder, the rain wrote horror. I don’t just rhyme, I distort your aura, Every syllable flip like a cult’s disorder. Got a halo cracked with a gunmetal gleam, Street prophet with a murderous dream. [Verse 2] Mind like a maze when I bend these bars, Synapse spark when the pen leaves scars. Every word like a Tesla arc, Shock through souls like electric hearts. I’m three brains in one – that’s me, myself, and the god I spar. Kinetic design, prophetic with lines, Telepathic vibe when the three combine. I speak in equations, divine in cadence, Time displace when I rhyme through phases. Godspeed flow with a hell-bent thesis, Bible in blood on a cracked prosthesis. This that East Side Eucharist slang, Liquor on lips while the choir sang. Turn my sin to a beat, that’s how pain became, Music for the lost, every note my flame. [Verse 3] Put a name on a stone, call that debt repaid, Street saints don’t pray, they raid. Every breath is a bullet in the pen I sprayed, Ink bleed crimson through the verse I laid. In the hood, resurrection is a rumor made, And the choir hum pain when the youth get played. See my hands raised high, that’s survival praise, From the blood of my knuckles to the tears I shaved. Every sermon’s a cipher, I teach through rage, Every lyric’s a war cry, page by page. And the liquor store glow like the gates of sin, When I step through the smoke, redemption begin. [Verse 4 – All 3, back-and-forth rapid fire] Can’t cage my mind, that cell too small. Brain wired tight, no room to fall. Faith and fear, I merge ‘em all. Voice like a prophet through a crack in the wall. Flow like physics, friction call, Truth so raw that the devil stall. I bend my grammar like titanium drawl, Every syllable slice, vibranium brawl. We ain’t clones, we gods off balance, Every thought spawns storms in fragments. Three minds sync like quantum patterns, Rappin’ in tongues, we the last commandments. [Verse 5] My temple ain’t glass, it’s brass and fire, Each breath I take rewrites the choir. I’m wired to code divine desire, When I rhyme, it’s war through holy attire. Cursed to preach through a crooked mic, Hood psalms born from a sleepless night. I baptize bars in the smoke and light, Then exhale grace till the beat ignite. Every rhyme designed like a sniper’s plan, Precision divine, no idle hand. We three in sync, that’s gospel fam, Liquor store church — where it all began. [Chorus – All 3 alternating] Liquor store, church on the corner, that’s balance, Sin in the system, grace in the chalice. Gun shop gospel, poverty palace, Every saint got scars, every sinner got talents. Liquor store, church, same block, no silence, Holy war soundtracked by siren violence. [Outro] East Side scriptures, where the liquor pours, Faith ain’t free when the sin’s the source. We the sermon they can’t ignore — Liquor store church, that’s spiritual war.
