Baptist Fashion Show

Those catty church bitches give me the blues,
And lord, look at these shoes...
And you know...
Church people were all about the shoes.
(Mama says you gotta go
To the Baptist Fashion Show)
Silk ties, shiny purses, fancy hats and jewels.
(Mama says you gotta go
Jesus gonna save your soul)
And that Christian catwalk was real unforgiving...
(Mama says you gotta go
But she didn't wanna go)
...to anyone who couldn't fit in for a living.
(Mama says you gotta go
To the Baptist Fashion Show)
Holy war on Sunday morning...
It was war on Sunday morning...
Now the church on Adams Boulevard is usually a bore.
The ladies wave fans and the old men snore.
The kids cut up on cue in the very back pew,
And the Holy Ghost ain't been here since 1972.
They got real estate, college funds, jobs with benefits,
Homeowners, debutantes...
This place is as phony as it gets.
LOOK! Everybody sharp,
Ain't not one head nappy.
But it's been a long time since this church got happy.
With their judgmental eyes,
See, they've all just realized,
Fourteen years old and still ain't been baptized...
Now just as he thought, "This'll be a nightmare come true,"
His conviction turned to ice in that chilly church pew,
His conviction turned to ice in that chilly church pew.
Jesus will make it back here before I do.
He saw the brownskin-ded ladies in their oversized crowns,
And the jet-black deacons with those "Don't you do that" frowns,
And those high yellow girls in skin-tight gowns,
A collection of verbs disguised as nouns.
And ev'ry Sunday she pushed him,
But she never wanted to go.
Ev'ry Sunday he listened,
But he didn't want to know.
It's too bad they never talked about,
The shared truth that dwelled below:
Who could handle the pressure
Of this Baptist Fashion Show?