An oomph in owe!

Who in their right minds place slot machines in the ghetto?
Wanting the poor to gamble with the little they don’t already have.
Be careful of that hip song that makes you hop,
It might just leave with your little hope lost in Christ.
Watch he that shouts in the name of the Divine
Yet his heart like wine is fermented with greed, envy and lust
The prophets have long gone but their prophecies live on,
So in the book possible truth lies, open it and read on.
Get your money, get your money,
But make sure what you get with that money
Don’t come back and get you.
Hmm, what’s that I hear?
Ooh hypnotic choral reverberations of a choir,
A choir that sits on the government sit
Nine to five, five days a week
Singing praises for taxes that make us weak,
In a system that makes us weak, weak, weak.
Mph! Mph! Mhp! What’s that’s smell?
Is a knock at the door?
Don’t guess who it is, curse who it is.