Lyrics The Gospel (Live From Auditorio Nacional Mexico City, Mexico) - Alicia Keys

Oh yeah, coming through with my Shaolin crew
Two cent for a case, gimme St. Ide's brew
In the midst of broken bottles and crushed up cans
Methtical's in a jam, oh how dry I am
With St. Ides in my system
Crack another I'm blessed, let's go get the next one
And get over, the object is to stay sober
Lay on the sofa, better yet, dial my chauffeur
Call me the Wallabee Champ, stretched out, could never be Son
Ricochet daily hit the deli for a cold one
Naturally blessed, yes, my rap is like a laser beam
Laser beam, laser beam, laser beam

Uh, uh, uh
Sing

So we all got children, products of the ghetto
Momma cooked the soup, daddy did the yelling
Uncle was a drunk, cousin was a felon
When he got pitched, he told them he wasn't telling
Auntie was a cook, her husband was a crook
Cause every job he had they be paying him off the books
Ghetto university, knowledge is all it took
In a tenement I was listening to the hook
Change gon' come, the spirit of Sam Cooke
When the feds coming, everybody be shook
Now we doing life like Eddie Murphy and Martin
On the chain gang, I was singing into the coffin

The roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks
Couldn't blame me, I'm just giving the facts
I'm tryna hit the top, cause' bottom ain't where it's at
Everybody got a past but you can never go back

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Sing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (Sing)

Telling you like it is, how we ever gon' live?
If we ain't getting money, how we feeding the kids?
It's a revolving door, where brothers be doing bids
I know it sound wrong but the door will be what it is
Survival of the fittest, this poor girl the illest
Broke parents and black cats give me heebie-geebies
Life seems hard but nothing ever comes easy
Whatever's in the dark, can always become the light
If you ain't in a battle, how you gon' win the fight?
I gotta speak the truth when I'm up in the booth
The streets be flying birds but they don't be on the roof
Poverty is a pain like you pulling a tooth
Told the streets don't let me go like I'm Bishop in Juice

Roaches and the rats, heroin and the cracks
Couldn't blame me, I'm just giving the facts
Tryna hit the top, the bottom ain't where it's at
Everybody got a past but you can never go back

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
Sing
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
(Gotta sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)

Oh, oh, oh, oh
Oh, oh, oh, oh
(Sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(Gotta sing)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
(She's a king)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah (yeah)
And they sing New York City
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah