Soul Appetite.
I’m just going to say it.
Sexyy Red.
Meg Thee Stall.
GloRilla.
Mariah the Scientist.
Billie.
Summer Walker.
Be careful who you stream.
Be careful who you praise.
Be careful what you let replay
For hours of your days.
Be careful who you admire.
Be careful what you claim.
Be careful what you sing out loud
With God’s own breath and Name.
You say I’m “too spiritual”?
Fine. Let’s speak it plain.
The Word says everything begins
In spirit first- then frame.
So let’s apply discernment.
When “Pound Town” hit the speakers,
Tell me, which spirit rose?
When “WAP” became an anthem,
Where do you think that flows?
Don’t leave. Stay with me. Let me land this thought.
Summer Walker. Mariah too.
Their pain feels real and raw.
Relatable. Emotional.
Late-night tears and all.
But when your gift is God-breathed,
And you build without His throne,
That art becomes a worship still,
Just not to Him alone.
When “Just Might” loops inside your head,
Like scripture you recite,
Toxic lines and sensual rage
On repeat every night…
You really think that does nothing?
You think it’s neutral ground?
You think what enters through your ears
Just disappears in sound?
If someone made a catchy song
Saying, “I’ll die tomorrow,”
You wouldn’t sing that over beats
Or chant it through your sorrow.
Why?
Because somewhere deep inside
You know words carry weight.
You know repetition plants a seed
That grows into your fate.
But “I might as well be a h*e”?
That’s harmless? That’s just vibes?
Man-hating bars are funny now?
Until it shapes your life?
Jesus was a man.
How do you honor any man
When Christ Himself you slight?
How do you honor even you
Without God in your sight?
You fear the lyric “die tomorrow.”
Good. That fear makes sense.
But you could live sixty more years
And lose eternity in the end.
Yes. That’s heavy.
Yes. That’s fire.
You play that music loud.
You let it form desire.
I’m not saying hymns all day.
Relax. Please breathe.
But don’t be foolish on purpose.
Don’t sow what you don’t want to reap.
Don’t pray yourself into chaos
With lyrics you repeat.
Don’t dig your own grave smiling
With headphones on your feet.
Discernment isn’t dramatic.
It’s wisdom. It’s aware.
It asks, “What spirit is behind this?”
Before it lets it in there.
Okay.
I’m done.
Love,
Jay
(runs… but not really)