And Hark! This knowledge [bad word] upon me in the first month of the fifth year in the Twenty-First Century,
January 2005, also known as the 'Year of the Celebrity Pedophile'.
I'm telling you that Jesus was a B-boy! 
For I too have seen the burning bush, (tokes) and smoked it! (coughs)
and it made clear to me in my search for a Hip-Hop Ever-After that Jesus was an esoteric b-boy whose halo out of a windmill was a catechism class 4 seats back, second chapter 

And so it was, Gethsamani was a b-boy battle with Heaven and [bad word] up for grabs.
Jesus cried blood, the heavens opened up, and one lonely [bad word] decended from above.
Then he tucked his wings in from behind him shyly made a
place for him self within the front row and then with a thundering 'bidi-bye-bye'
he beatboxed his way though a hip-hop concerto 
and though Jesus had 12 Apostles, he wouldn't have won the battle if he didn't called the best dancers he did know, 
they would known collectivly as Jesus' crew and individually as Shadrach, Meshach, and a bad, bad, bad negro.

Jesus was a Dogtown Z-boy before Hollywood came calling.
He used his carpentry skills, but refused to make anything other than Jeff Hull boards. 
He was Larry Burton, forcing sounds out of the ocean by tickling the inside of a perfect wave's vocal chords. 
Jesus was a young Jay Adams all blond and bending gravity who kicked the Pharisees out of their temple. 
And then skated in their empty pools.

Jesus was a graph artist. 
He tagged scriptures along the wall of Galilee, with messages for the Sadducees, 
who covered it up in fear it would be labeled herecy under the new Pontius Pilot Program.

Jesus was a someone, and every time he killed a [bad word] pan sound, he forgave them, 
for they knew not with whom they clashed.

But all-in-all, Jesus was a B-boy Huh! He died for our sins, has arisen and now resides in Heaven. 
That is to say, he lives in the kick [bad word] of a perfect hip-hop song circa 1987.