Profhet, 1968 - Sho Baraka, Jamie Portee, Amisho Baraka Lewis

Ya’ll ready?

Ok, Marty, we ready!

Let’s put it in the red

I lost it, I lost it a long time ago

I died already, I got one life to go

Executives, they put us on the shelf, they say we counterfeit

I got the answers but they don’t know what the problem is

I fight the power but they want me to dance

I do the right thing cause I ain’t Rosie Perez

I’m praying «Lord, can you change my position?»

As if my position can make for an easy mission

I get possessions, they tell me to set 'em free

I cancelled, does that mean my possessions they own me?

I don’t wanna be pop, I don’t wanna be Pac

I wanna be a activist, but I don’t wanna get shot

People think that I’m so brave, I’m so afraid

I get lost in my own head, I’m so amazed

You could choose to be the book or either read about it

You could speak about it, be a prophet or just be a product

A silver tongue, gold pockets

Fat belly, stolen wallets

Empty words, loaned knowledge

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I lose money every time I’m honest

Help me find it, I think I’m losing my religion

Help me find it, I think I’m losing my religion

I think they moved the finish line, I’m losing my position

Devil wanna buy my soul, I tell him I’m too expensive

My man say he don’t live like an angel much

Except for when he’s high off that angel dust

Dude said that the church is full of hypocrites

I told him find somebody outside the church who was innocent

They only throw stones at trees that bear fruits

So don’t be shocked when the mob attempts to throw stones at you

The ancestors told us we should wake up

And when I stop dreaming, failure, we gon' break up

Some dream of a Aston Martin

I dream of Angela and Martin in the morning marchin'

Bringing hope to the homeless, the widows, and the orphans

I’m prayin' for revival, tell James to bring his organ

A silver tongue, gold pockets

Fat belly, stolen wallets

Empty words, loaned knowledge

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I’m undervalued but I can be a prophet

I lose money every time I’m honest

The shadows try to taunt me

They hopin' I fall

But I shall not fall

And I will not fall

You can offer me money

You can offer me gold

You can’t have my crown

You can’t have my soul

You can’t have my soul

You can’t have my soul

So let it go!