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That old book, in the corner, dusty and left behind. That is God to me. That book will always be there for me and anyone who needs him.
Company, Mindless thoughts to tell them, Saying what you think. Bright one early Sunday, He took my hand in his claiming it. Choppy words and sounds, Playing through the day,
Its crazy to go from a gangster to a christian A loud mouth to a listener A gun toter to a bible holder A brother fighter to a man molder To go from ripping and running the streets To hymnals moving my feet