[Intro:]nA yo man let that beat drop on emnYea, oh you know I'm liking that right therenWats good yallnIt's yo boy LecraenSome call me crezynI'm here with my 116 clique representing to younWe just want to put it down for the Lord Jesus ChristnCity to city and state to state, we keep running into more 116 clique membersnPeople who are unashamed of the gospel of Jesus ChristnLet me tell you where we're from dog�nn[verse 1:]nNew Jerusalem, that's my homenLet me put it in a song, so you'll never get it wrongnNo shame in the message, that's the reason I live (reason I live)nChrist up in every song, He's the reason I'm herenAll they rhyme about is guns, money, sex and drugsnEighty percent of these dudes is fictional thugsnWe don't kill nobody, we don't rob no storesnWe don't trap, we aint strapped, we don't smoke that dronWe aint pimpin, we aint trippin, if we tippin on some foursnden youll probaly hear dat Jesus music comin out our doors(comin out our doors)nwe aint ashamed, you can call us lame,nbut everybody gotta die and stand in front of the Kingnn[chorus:]nWe unashamed, unashamednUnashamed, unashamednUnashamed, unashamednUnashamed, unashamednUnashamed, unashamednUnashamed, we unashamednUnashamed, unashamednUnashamed, unashamednWe unashamednn[verse 2:]nWatch this so you can really know what time it isnGod is resurrected and I'm here to glorify HimnMa Jesus, Jesus, ma Jesus might make a great tunenBut we gotta lead em dipset to the weight roomnI gotta date soon, but it aint soon enoughnFather keep pruning us, cause its proven we known for screwing upnI cant front cause the pressure is still thicknAnd when sin in looks like the pressure, I'm havin to turn quicknA sin sick, so merk it like John OwennYou know when Jesus the Christ you can pay him, but still owe himnWe shoulda died and been buried for our wrong actionsnInstead Christ died and carried them on his own back (What?)nThis is a known fact, but some say that its fictionnThis is our lifestyle, no its not a religionnSee I survived death back in 2002,nAnd religion is not at all what got your boy throughnYea your boy crayola, I don't do payolanNo floors full of baking soda, just JehovahnI get played to the left more than I get paid to writenSo I aint worried about eating dog, tryin to display the fightnn[chorus]nn[verse 3:]nYou see me on the block, the ava void in the landnWe look the same, but we differentnWe bring God to this thangnWhile being vocal by the Lord and not a piece on chainnBut don't get it twisted, its reasons these boys unashamednHow bout 39 lashes of beatings, they laughing and teasingnThese blasphemous heathens reject the passion of JesusnHe fasted from speaking even with nails bashed in His feat, and the cross,nHe gasping and wheezing, His lungs collect as He's breathingnThe chief priest stone in the court of this chiefnMy Prince of Peace minus the pipe who bought my grief so no more chiefinnBut like the rims that hit the curb (curb) we call em shoulder bladesnWe got out crosses on our back like our shoulder bladenThis is death and resurrection that turned about my directionnStepping toward perfection had nothing to do with me (do with me)nBut the gospel is the power and power been men to pow outnWe powed in the pavement takin the message to the streetsnn[chorus]