Church of the Streets

Church of the Streets Christ ain't corporate, Christ ain't taxed He flipped them tables, now they flippin' facts They sellin' grace with a merch booth tag Call it holy hustle, but it's hell in a bag Books they ain't write, still got a price Stealin' from the poor while they preachin' Christ Jehovah's house ain't a market stall You sellin' souls every Sunday call Name ain't Christian just 'cause you dress clean If the truth's in prison, then the robe ain't mean Nails in palms but your hands still free You ain’t Christlike, just a Pharisee Crystal ball, yeah, your future’s dim Tarot talkin’ but you missin' Him Holy Spirit ain’t somethin' sold You can’t buy the fire, it can’t be told Street preachers got more Word than priests Truth in chains, but they barkin' beasts Locked for light, but they blazin’ hard Martyrs walk where the liars guard Holier-than-thou with a desk and check But you clockin’ out when it's time to reflect If your soul’s sick, while the Earth shiftin’ Better look up ‘fore the curse liftin’ Church ain’t walls, church is breath Church is cryin’ and risin’ from death We the temple, we the flame Ain’t no prophet playin’ fame So miss me with that Christendom You tradin' blood for a kingdom crumb Sellin’ God? Better count the cost True saints walk where the world gets lost Amen. God.