Poor rich man with your wallet stuffed
with pictures of dead Presidents,
you still may not have enough
to make your life worth two cents.
You shower yourself with credit cards
and expensive tailor-made suits.
You've bowed down to many false Gods
and have never bared fine fruit.
Poor rich man in your mansions of gold
with chandeliers hanging down,
the time will come when you're grow old
and be buried beneath the ground.
In fancy cars with fine cologne
and your scent blowing in the wind,
cruising with a wife other than your own
believing that it's not a sin?
Poor rich man, I won't envy you
when it comes to that Judgement Day.
For what can your money do for you
when your soul has passed away?
If I'm poor with my face to the ground
but rich before God I could stand,
it's better than gold all around
and the sins of a rich man.
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