Sacrilege from GDLS by Goliath LXIX

[Intro]
"They lied to you…"
"They sold you hope like it came with a price tag…"
"But God don’t take cash, fam…"

[Verse 1]
Gold in the church, but the streets stay broke,
Saints got bread, but they don’t share loaves.
Preacher got silk, but the kids wear rags,
Pockets got weight, but the poor got bags.
Say my sins too black, can’t be saved,
Said I need grace, but the fee too paid.
Hell got room, but the gates stay locked,
Tried to buy peace, but the Lord don’t shop.
Saints get fat while the prayers go cold,
Hands stay clean but the stories get told.
Said I’m lost? Bitch, I been too found,
Looked up high, but He ain’t come down.

[Chorus]
"Holy lies, holy chains,
Saints walk free, but the poor stay slain.
Silver tongues, bloody hands,
Bow to the cross or the noose, my man."

[Verse 2]
Hymns get sung while the war drums knock,
Blood in the cup, but the wine don’t stop.
They say "faith," but the faith got cost,
Paid in souls, tell me who’s that boss?
They break men down then they sell ‘em back,
Give ‘em false hope then they chain ‘em fast.
Said the Lord love all but the facts stay mute,
Cuz the Lord love cash when the rent come due.
Look in the mirror, what do I see?
A man with scars but a soul still free.
They burn my kind but they preach that peace,
Tell me what’s faith with a priest like these?

[Chorus]
"Holy lies, holy chains,
Saints walk free, but the poor stay slain.
Silver tongues, bloody hands,
Bow to the cross or the noose, my man."

[Verse 3]
Burn that book if the words ain’t real,
Fake-ass saints got blood to spill.
Ain’t no love in the house they built,
Just golden thrones and the weak get killed.
Fell to my knees but the ground felt cold,
Asked for a sign but the sky went ghost.
They say faith gon’ heal, but the scars still burn,
Cuz the devil got wings and he took his turn.
Don’t preach hope if the hope don’t feed,
Don’t talk love if the love got fees.
They call it sin, I call it facts,
If Heaven got gates, tell ‘em lock that trap.

[Chorus]
"Holy lies, holy chains,
Saints walk free, but the poor stay slain.
Silver tongues, bloody hands,
Bow to the cross or the noose, my man."

[Outro]
("You want faith? Then pay the price…")
("Saints ain’t broke, but the poor stay blind…")
("Bow your heads, fam. They watchin’.")

• Hip-Hop/Rap
• alternative rap
• ambient trap
• dark ambient trap
• experimental hip-hop
• spoken Word
• London