“I got next," Jesus said. “Looking to ball. Cuz I’ve been busy with
other shit, ever since The Fall.
I’m hitting the courts, been itching to play; ball is life, don’t
care what my dad say.
Rose from the tomb, I can rise out here. This jewish brother has
hops, and a whole NOTHER gear.
My handle’s ferocious, Kyrie got nothing on me, so ambidextrous, I
too can part the red sea.
My cross-over’s a carnival ride, littered with broken ankles, and
I can do this shit wearing mere sandals.
Brah!
Touch in the paint is Olajuwan fine, even after I consecrate the
wine.
Brothers hear me, I got neeeeeeext. Squad’s all right all night,
and we aim to wreck.
Snoopy at the point, Garfield in the middle, and both these
brothers fit as a fiddle.
Marmaduke’s my four and he’s a la Malone, get outta here with that
Karl shit, Moses is the one he condones.
Woodstock is my two and he lives from three, better expand, best
widen, stretch your D.
I’m roundin’ out the squad and I’m squaring to score, my wrists
are fine, not even a little sore.
I’ve traded in my robe, for some Bird-era shorties, still got the
hipster beard, but I’ll drink your 40.
Don’t need a shirt cuz my six pack still rippin, my fast break
game will remind you a lot of Pippin.
Damn! Some brothers out here hackin’! Jesus don’t play that shit,
you better start packin’.
Stow your fouls under your seats or in the overhead bin, hackin on
me is a mortal sin.
Damn, what’s the score of this mess? Shit make a layup, after ball
there’s some shit I have to bless.
Gettin’ tight on the sidelines, cats laying bricks untold!, this
ain’t masonry, put the ball in the whole.
While we’re young! My brothers. Got things to do. Eternal life and
carpentry too.
Come to me children but bring a jump shot, top of the elbow, the
wing, just pick a spot.
Fed the masses with five loaves and two fishes, these scrubs found
the genie but ran outta bball wishes.
Give’ em the milkshake, take whitie to whole, wrap this up so you
can smoke yer bowl.
Million dollar move and a ten cent shot, gonna die waiting next,
score or get off the pot.
I raised Lazerus but this game is unjust, a rusted bust, torturous
for all of us.
Where’s the passion my brothers? To flush, to score, to finish?
You don’t have to be anointed but it won’t hurt to eat your spinach.
This cat trying to model his game on Harden, but after that brick
it's like the agony in the garden.
My patience is on trial with this scoring arrested, I just wanted
to ball but you know I know I’m being tested.
There’s a lot I can save but this game is habilis; y’all scrubs a
species different from the rest of us.
(Jesus’ cell phone rings, Ringtone is the opening guitar riff from
Red Hot Chili Peppers’ Give It Away Now)
Shit that’s my dad, I gots to bounce, and I didn’t get whip, slay,
or trounce.
But you fools remember, who was on the sidelines in full flex, cause
on my second coming, Jesus got next.”
