Show Lyrics

Cross Movement - Shock
(from the album Heaven's Mentality)
© copyright 1997

Yah, you know my signature
Be the Tonic with my man Earthquake and we be the Gift
Constantly surrounded by The Movement in the Spirit of Jesus Christ
Now you can be shocking, or you can get shocked
Check this...

Verse 1:
Now I can dig into the holy data with the clicking of the fader/
Though delivered from the swamp I can still snap it like a gator/
And rightly divide the data back into the data/
For those that are hungry we can whip up the batter/
Singing hey diddle diddle/
Can this cat get fat over top the fiddle heat up the griddle /
And flip scriptures hot in stacks like flap jacks or pancakes/
With thick breaks hearty like steaks/
With lessons in the essence of seeking God in His presence/
While some 'round here sacrificing pheasants/
We be standing on top of a hill looking over/
Letting our lights shine before men like a super nova/
Though its dark because of God Im brighter bubonic/
Chronic, demonic sucker MC fighter/
Here to tax and levy the evil and heavy/
Built like a Ford with the flex of a Chevy/
And you can smell the drag of the rubber from my mags/
'cause I was out so fast you couldn't peep my tags/
So now I'm off the gas so you can see where I'm from/
As you ease up you see I'm from the Kingdom/
Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done but none/
Come to the Father 'less they come to the Son/
And that'll take you past any nirvana that's a blast of shekinah/
But some will be shocked, watch!

We comin' with the Shock/
And yall can catch the Shock/
We comin' with the Shock/
Let the world catch the Shock/
We comin' with the Shock/
Jesus Christ brings the Shock/
In Christ we come to blow up the spot/
We comin' with the Shock/
And you can catch the Shock/
We comin' with the Shock/
Let the world catch the Shock/
Jesus Christ brings the Shock/
Prepare for the Shock/
In Christ we come to blow up the spot.

Verse 2:
Three to get ready 'cause we all must go/
The wages of sin will let you know/
That death be comin' no man can hide/
As surely as we live we gots to surely die/
This ain't meant to scare, ain't meant to haunt/
You can eat all the fish and herbs you want/
Pull all of the skin off your chicken wings/
Only drink fresh water from the natural springs/
Vitamix, vitamax in stacks you buy/
No pork only greens and beans on rye/
No cholesterol, alcohol or smoke/
But all in all, we all still croak/
So you can join a health kick wave/
And be another healthy person on your way to the grave/
And that's good shows you're not simple (why)/
You're honoring God by taking care of you're temple/
But what about life beyond this place/
Are you lifting spiritual weights and pumping up faith/
In prayer do you do sets, in church do you do reps/
to build righteous massive biceps and pecs/ (pectorals)
Oh watch out are you about to flex/
And give God the glory from this life to the next/
So as the crab grass grows up around your tomb stone/
Will your epitaph give you the last laugh or will it have.


Verse 3:
For all those evil, bold, and in control/
Bend over it's time to spank the cheeks of you soul/
And it won't matter if you call Dyfuss (DYFS)/
'Cause it's never abuse if the love be righteous/
It seems the world has gone hysterical/
And needs to be slapped back to the real facts about who be the Imperial/
One to keep air in your lungs and milk in your cereal/
The only moon glower and the only sun setter/
Now you've been potty trained but you're still a bed wetter/
In other words, you know what God requires/
But you wanna see how close you can dance to the fire/
You've never been burnt, so you're funky, mikosa/
To see if you can stay free from the smell of the sulfur/
Spiritual youngster swearin' you grown/
Tryin' to throw on righteousness like it's cologne/
But you're mistaken 'cause it's much more than fakin'/
'Cause that's like tryin' to throw sugar on bacon/
Like tryin' to mix the sweet with the grease/
Or like sayin' you don't like cheese, but your down with the "meece"/
Or the mice, or like tre is point, but you box car the dice/
Or like at a funeral tryin' to throw rice/
What? It ain't workin' is it/
Well on your day in the sunshine, beware of the blizzard/
'Cause contraire to care God won't be mocked/
So in you're Glock lingo the hammer is cocked/
If the armored Christ vest breast plate ain't there to block/
Beware of the trauma that comes with the, ahh