There is a fountain filled with blood Drawn from Emmanuel's veins And sinners plunged beneath that flood Lose all their guilty stains Lose all their
Verse 1: I Love to praise Him (I Love to praise His name) {x3} I Love to praise His holy name I Love to praise Him (I Love to praise His name) I Love
to the top of this Hold your breath, kid, I'm never droppin' this Too busy rollin' off them fat chrome rims And niggas who trip get sung hymns We crash
a butcher knife, screamin out "assassin!" He ran by a friend of mine, it bugged him His eyes showed fear, that's the reason why he stuck him
killed 'em, I ain't been in trouble since It wasn't my fault I acted out of self-defense, he killed my best friend (Who's him?) I mean them, they was
the size of a nickel To help him regain his breath And I was struck by the power and the glory I was visited by a majestic him Great bolts of lightning
it, but all of it Cancer reduce him to dust We saw the moon vanish into his pocket We saw the stars disappear from sight We saw him walk across water
the size of a nickel to help him regain his breath And I was struck by The Power and The Glory I was visited by a majestic Him Great bolts of lightning
When all the birds had fled That mighty Gitchi Manitou Sent angel choirs instead Before their light the stars grew dim And wandering hunters heard the hymn
gold star Raised above his head Raised above his head He was not like any other He was just like any other And the song they bled Was a hymn to him
so triflin Got kids idlin the vest to riflin (look Ma!) Why you make a fake life in pens? Glorify the hood but never a Bible hymn And as the streets keep
I was walking in Savannah past a church, decayed and dim When slowly through the window came a plaintive funeral hymn My sympathy awakened and a wonder
these little boys and girls I'm not just another individual, my spirit is a part of this That's why I get spiritual, but I get my hymns from Him So it
my time when I rhyme lovely, me nah like ugly like God we get odd to the rhythms Rappers thinkin' of steppin' up, what the fuck you're doin'? I amplify the hymn
Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! Glory! Glory! Hallelujah! His truth is marching on. I have seen Him in the watch-fires of a hundred circling camps; They have builded Him
shit that can't be bitten so stop it Type shit that can't be re-written on copy By Kinko, Kodak, Fuji films Kin-folk know that groovy hymns Spit by him
I said, ?I don't know? The catastrophic hymns from yesterday Of misery The Vinnie was a hustler out of Amsterdam He ran the drug cartel in Tinseltown They found him
By David Allan Coe SPOKEN USED TO GO WITH MY GRANDPA UP TO THE TOWN SQUARE, SET HIM DOWN UP THERE ON A PICNIC BENCH AND HE USED TO PLAY CHECKERS WITH