 I was born, son of Mahalia, so I received the gospel. Told to go spell it and bring it back to Chicago. Raps to Sabo for the street apostles. The big payback for the dollar that I borrow. Bust racks for tomorrow. Where the guns clap and go bravo. My pops was a genie living in a bottle. Light and dark in us. I own Vitilago and Pentecostal Chicago. Bravado and bravery. We went from cargo and slavery to God flow. They paid a seat and took agency for what we made to be.