“I Need You Every Hour” by Mike Aremu is a poignant musical composition that transcends the boundaries of mere entertainment, offering a soul-stirring worship experience. Mike Aremu, recognized for his mastery of the saxophone and profound musical expressions, delivers a piece that delves into the depths of spiritual longing and dependency on the Divine.
In this melodic masterpiece, “I Need You Every Hour,” Mike Aremu skillfully blends his exceptional saxophone artistry with heartfelt vocals, creating a harmonious fusion that resonates with listeners on a spiritual level. The song is not merely a performance; it’s a prayerful declaration of the soul’s dependence on the presence and guidance of a higher power.
The lyrics of “I Need You Every Hour” convey a profound sense of vulnerability and humility, expressing the universal human need for divine intervention and companionship. Mike Aremu’s delivery goes beyond musical notes, capturing the essence of a worshipper pouring out their heart in a moment of surrender and recognition of God’s sovereignty.
Mike Aremu – I Need You Every Hour Lyrics
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“Look, I was gonna go easy on you not to hurt your feelings”
“But I’m only going to get this one chance” (Six minutes— Six minutes—)
“Something’s wrong, I can feel it” (Six minutes, Slim Shady, you’re on!)
“Just a feeling I’ve got, like something’s about to happen, but I don’t know what.
If that means what I think it means, we’re in trouble, big trouble;
And if he is as bananas as you say, I’m not taking any chances”
“You are just what the doc ordered”
I’m beginnin’ to feel like a Rap God, Rap God
All my people from the front to the back nod, back nod
Now, who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?
They said I rap like a robot, so call me Rap-bot
But for me to rap like a computer it must be in my genes
I got a laptop in my back pocket
My pen’ll go off when I half-cock it
Got a fat knot from that rap profit
Made a livin’ and a killin’ off it
Ever since Bill Clinton was still in office
With Monica Lewinsky feelin’ on his nutsack
I’m an MC still as honest
But as rude and as indecent as all hell
Syllables, skill-a-holic (Kill ’em all with)
This flippity dippity-hippity hip-hop
You don’t really wanna get into a pissin’ match
With this rappity brat, packin’ a MAC in the back of the Ac’
Backpack rap crap, yap-yap, yackety-yack
And at the exact same time, I attempt these lyrical acrobat stunts while I’m practicin’ that
I’ll still be able to break a motherfuckin’ table
Over the back of a couple of faggots and crack it in half
Only realized it was ironic, I was signed to Aftermath after the fact
How could I not blow? All I do is drop F-bombs
Feel my wrath of attack
Rappers are havin’ a rough time period, here’s a maxi pad
It’s actually disastrously bad for the wack
While I’m masterfully constructing this masterpièce