Hey Osteen, Open the Doors
🎵 2612 characters
⏱️ 3:34 duration
🆔 ID: 23839367
📜 Lyrics
(Verse 1)
Hey Osteen, why’d you lock them doors?
Storm hit Houston—folks slept on floors.
While you sat dry in that holy coliseum,
Counting tithes and tweets while no one could see ‘em.
You said "logistics," you said "flooded lot"—
But aerial shots said, “Nah, it's not.”
You preach love, faith, blessings galore—
But not when the poor come knockin’ at your door.
(Chorus)
Hey Osteen, man of gold and grin,
Where’s your Jesus when the broke can’t get in?
Preachin’ dreams while your mansion climbs—
Built from grandma’s rent and poor folks' dimes.
Don't need your verses—don't want your spin.
Your God’s behind gates with cameras and tin.
While kids go hungry, you shine your floor—
Hey Osteen, why’d you lock them doors?
(Verse 2)
You smile on stage in that five-grand suit,
Tellin’ single moms “Plant that seed for fruit.”
But the only one growin’ is your offshore account,
While your followers drown in medical debt amounts.
"God wants you rich," you say from the stage—
Meanwhile your flock's workin’ two jobs for wage.
How many Lamborghinis does salvation take?
You got private jets—folks got payday breaks.
(Chorus)
Hey Osteen, preacher of shametrade holy light for fortune and fame.
You sell salvation like a late-night ad—
“For just twenty-nine ninety-nine, God will fix what’s bad!”
But Jesus flipped tables—He’d flip you too.
A castle of lies in a Gucci shoe.
Still lockin’ doors while the thunder roars—
Hey Osteen, we see you—open the damn doors.
Remember that verse?
“What you do for the least of these, you do unto Me.”
Not “Build a megachurch and charge a VIP fee.”
You say you're not political?
Then why's your front row full of right-wing donors and flag-draped drama?
You want the gospel without the guilt,
But ain't no cross in your glittered quilt.
You skipped the sacrifice and kept the throne—
You turned the Bible into a business loan.
(Final Verse)
So tell us, Joel—
How’s it feel to swim in tides of grace
While people drown in bills you help them chase?
You ain’t a shepherd, you’re a CEO—
In a church that feels more like a TV show.
(Final Chorus)
Hey Osteen, apostle of greed,
Prayin’ over yachts while folks just need
A place to sleep, a bite to eat—
But your holy empire don’t serve the street.
We don’t need your savior. Don’t need your shame.
But your holy empire don’t serve the street.
We don’t need your savior. Don’t need your shame.
We remember the burning—and we still came.
The flock’s waking up, and we’re keeping score—
Hey Osteen, you better unlock them doors.
Hey Osteen, why’d you lock them doors?
Storm hit Houston—folks slept on floors.
While you sat dry in that holy coliseum,
Counting tithes and tweets while no one could see ‘em.
You said "logistics," you said "flooded lot"—
But aerial shots said, “Nah, it's not.”
You preach love, faith, blessings galore—
But not when the poor come knockin’ at your door.
(Chorus)
Hey Osteen, man of gold and grin,
Where’s your Jesus when the broke can’t get in?
Preachin’ dreams while your mansion climbs—
Built from grandma’s rent and poor folks' dimes.
Don't need your verses—don't want your spin.
Your God’s behind gates with cameras and tin.
While kids go hungry, you shine your floor—
Hey Osteen, why’d you lock them doors?
(Verse 2)
You smile on stage in that five-grand suit,
Tellin’ single moms “Plant that seed for fruit.”
But the only one growin’ is your offshore account,
While your followers drown in medical debt amounts.
"God wants you rich," you say from the stage—
Meanwhile your flock's workin’ two jobs for wage.
How many Lamborghinis does salvation take?
You got private jets—folks got payday breaks.
(Chorus)
Hey Osteen, preacher of shametrade holy light for fortune and fame.
You sell salvation like a late-night ad—
“For just twenty-nine ninety-nine, God will fix what’s bad!”
But Jesus flipped tables—He’d flip you too.
A castle of lies in a Gucci shoe.
Still lockin’ doors while the thunder roars—
Hey Osteen, we see you—open the damn doors.
Remember that verse?
“What you do for the least of these, you do unto Me.”
Not “Build a megachurch and charge a VIP fee.”
You say you're not political?
Then why's your front row full of right-wing donors and flag-draped drama?
You want the gospel without the guilt,
But ain't no cross in your glittered quilt.
You skipped the sacrifice and kept the throne—
You turned the Bible into a business loan.
(Final Verse)
So tell us, Joel—
How’s it feel to swim in tides of grace
While people drown in bills you help them chase?
You ain’t a shepherd, you’re a CEO—
In a church that feels more like a TV show.
(Final Chorus)
Hey Osteen, apostle of greed,
Prayin’ over yachts while folks just need
A place to sleep, a bite to eat—
But your holy empire don’t serve the street.
We don’t need your savior. Don’t need your shame.
But your holy empire don’t serve the street.
We don’t need your savior. Don’t need your shame.
We remember the burning—and we still came.
The flock’s waking up, and we’re keeping score—
Hey Osteen, you better unlock them doors.