Tithe & Tax from GDLS by Goliath LXIX

[Intro]
"Pay your tithes… Pay your tax… The Lord is watching…"
"Governments and churches – two hands, same pockets…"
"Pray harder, work harder… Maybe next life, G."

[Verse 1]
Gold on the cross, gold on the throne,
Gold in they pockets, but the streets stay cold.
Told me "faith" gon’ save my soul,
But they pass that plate when the rent come close.
Pastor got jets, pastor got mansions,
Preach from a book full of tax exemptions.
Governments rob, priests do too,
Both write laws that don’t serve you.
They take your paper, take your blood,
Make you kneel, call it love.
Tell me, fam, what’s a sin?
If greed gets a pass when the church cashes in?
Bank got fees, faith got dues,
Ain’t no heaven when the bills past due.
Say my prayers, say my grace,
But the only thing holy got a cash exchange.

[Chorus ]
"Tithe & tax, praise the Lord,
Give your check, feed the fraud.
Bow your head, break your back,
Rich get rich, ain't no cap." 🎶
("Tithe & tax, praise the Lord)
(Give your check, feed the fraud)
(Bow your head, break your back)
(Rich get rich, ain't no cap.")

[Verse 2]
They don’t want truth, they want believers,
They don’t want peace, they want receivers.
Keep you broke, keep you weak,
Feed you faith, keep you asleep.
Tell me, what’s a sin?
If priests touch kids but the cops stay thin?
If banks fund wars and they still get blessed,
If the streets get taxed but the church get checks?
Holy water don’t wash that debt,
Bible say give, but the church don’t bet.
They say "God loves all" but the broke stay last,
Funny how heaven got a VIP pass.
Gospel of money, gospel of chains,
Work till you die then they profit your grave.
Ain’t no grace, ain’t no blessin’,
Just a billion-dollar scam in confession.

[Chorus]
"Tithe & tax, praise the Lord,
Give your check, feed the fraud.
Bow your head, break your back,
Rich get rich, ain't no cap." 🎶
("Tithe & tax, praise the Lord)
(Give your check, feed the fraud)
(Bow your head, break your back)
(Rich get rich, ain't no cap.")

[Verse 3]
Ain’t no Heaven for the weak,
Ain’t no hell for the elite.
Ain’t no justice in the book,
Just power, money, keep ‘em shook.
Holy men bless bombs, bless tanks,
Bless them suits, bless them banks.
They robbed you blind, made you sing,
Made you believe your pain got wings.
Hustle of the century,
Whole thing built on trickery.
Say a prayer, say a verse,
Then they flip your pockets first.
Pastor laugh, bank gon’ grin,
While you kneel and wash your sins.
Ain’t no God, just a king,
And his crown made outta green.

[Outro]
("Pass the plate, brother… )
(Pass the law…")
("Give ‘em hope)
(but keep ‘em poor…")
(Tithe & tax…)
The same ol’ score…)
(No more - no more - no more)

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