The album I’m about to dive head first into is not clean. It’s not pretty either. In fact, I think it’d be pretty accurate to say that a lot of the songs, sounds, and subject matter are downright ugly (yes, pun intended). I understand that this page normally covers Christian music, which as a whole is known to be profanity-free, “safe for the whole family,” and wary of anything that might even seem to glorify any kind of sin. This is my disclaimer that this project is not that… feel free to do with that information what you will.
All that said, despite the profanity, occasional explicit topics, and overall darker vibe of this album (and even because of it), I truly believe that on “God Does Like Ugly,” “secular” rapper JID makes some profound theological claims, shares his testimony of redemption, and invites believers and non-believers alike into the controversial and shocking grace that God pours out on those who turn to Him through it all. In this article, I intend to dive into the story that JID lays out here of his struggles, his hood, and how he has seen God in all of it. I’ll start with some context, pick out some key moments from the album that develop the narrative, and end with some closing thoughts.
JID (short for “J.I.D”) is a rapper from Atlanta who has steadily built a reputation as one of the most skillful lyricists in hip-hop today. He first broke out as part of J. Cole’s Dreamville collective, contributing to the Grammy-winning Revenge of the Dreamers III project, and has since become known for his rapid-fire flow, dense wordplay, and deeply personal storytelling.
While JID isn’t usually thought of as a “Christian rapper,” themes of faith, morality, and wrestling with God have surfaced in his music for years. On his 2018 album DiCaprio 2 and 2022’s The Forever Story, he sprinkled in lines about prayer, sin, and redemption, often drawing from his Atlanta upbringing in the Black church. What makes God Does Like Ugly stand out is how directly and consistently he engages with spiritual themes — not as a sanitized “gospel project,” but as a raw testimony that mixes the grime of street life with the grace he’s still reaching toward.
As much as I would love to do a song-by-song, line-by-line analysis of this album and break down every line and theme JID dives into, I have neither the time nor expertise to do so. Instead, I invite you to do some exploring yourself, and will dive deep into the songs and key lyrics that directly lean into JID’s faith-related messaging. For songs without clear direct theological implications, I will opt to give a brief summary, picking out any lines that I feel would be helpful in this discussion.
These are the first words that JID raps on the whole album… and yes, this is a crazy claim to make, especially at the very beginning of the project. In this line he sets the scene—the environment he is in is dark, twisted, and painful. At this point in the album, we don’t know what he’s referring to, but he’s clearly going through it. Despite being in hell, JID claims to have angel wings—although he’s in hell, he has not touched the ground yet. Something is holding him up from plummeting into damnation.
After the rest of his first verse, describing his home and the “hell” he’s living in, the beat shifts into a segue—a chorus of voices singing about hope. Even though JID is going through it, he knows that the pain and chaos are temporary.
In JID’s last verse of the song, he continues to set the scene, rapping versatile and clever bars over an aggressive beat, detailing what it was like growing up in the Atlanta hood. Through it all, he made the decision to write raps, and refused to hold back his true experience. Although what he wrote was ugly, he knew it was that way because he wanted to capture the ugly world around him.
On the second track of the album, JID continues to unashamedly lean into his faith and his perceived mission as a Christian. At first, this seems like a typical Christian rap song, but the song goes from clean to ugly within a few lines.
Throughout “Glory,” JID artfully tells the story of his brother, who despite being raised in church alongside JID, turned to violence and crime. He got a tool (a gun), and started shooting and robbing cars, and later in the song was detained for his crime.
Despite second chances and supposedly giving his life to Christ, JID’s brother ended up acting the way that the culture in Atlanta taught him he should act.
In this interlude, a pastor gives a word about God’s redemption and how He makes us new. To me, this is a very intentional choice by JID to contrast the truth and grace that they were hearing growing up in African-American churches with the actual muck and mire that he and his brother were surrounded by and struggling with.
When JID returns, he lays out his own temptations to go against God and take matters into his own hands. Despite knowing that God is in control and that violence is sinful, JID goes the way of the culture and leans into the gun violence that he knew God directly opposed.
Despite the church’s constant influence in JID’s brother’s life, he ultimately gave into temptation and paid the price of it in jail. In the lines above, JID lays that against the original sin in the garden, and how despite Adam and Eve’s best intentions and efforts, they still ended up turning away from God.
Despite the temptation and pain around JID during his upbringing, he closes out his verse stating that he’s still going to church and giving glory to God. Even in his sin and his brother’s disobedience, JID continued to find hope and forgiveness in God’s house and His presence.
Glory ends with another recording of a preacher, this time using designer clothing and drip as a metaphor for the redemption and cleansing that can be found in Jesus. Despite the ugliness in JID’s life, this outro makes it clear that he knows God’s redemption cleans the ugliness and makes us beautiful and new again.
This song was JID’s first single for the project, and details his re-entrance into writing, rapping, and releasing music following his last album “The Forever Story.” In this track, he addresses his disappointment with the reception of that album, and confronts the ugly truth that reaching his ambitions is going to require relentless work.
This is a really fun song, featuring verses from legendary rap duo “Clipse,” made up of hip-hop icons Pusha T and Malice. In it, these three rappers artfully paint a picture of the hoods they were raised in, and how “the projects” they grew up in ended up being a stage for human suffering for Black people across America.
This is the first song on part two of the album, marking a significant sonic shift into more R&B-inspired tracks, as opposed to the aggressive and fast-paced rap-focused songs that we’ve encountered so far. “Gz” continues the topics of the Black experience in America, focusing specifically on the cultural pressure to live a “gangsta” lifestyle in Atlanta.
On “VCR,” Vince Staples joins JID over a groovy track to dive deeper into corrupt consumerism and hood life in America.
As the album continues to explore Atlanta, JID uses this song to dive into skating culture, one of the more prominent elements of the area. This song continues to build out the world that the rapper exists in, and is also just a really fun song to listen to.
Remember the “occasional explicit topics” that I mentioned in the intro? This song is for sure one of those moments, and to someone only casually listening or someone looking to throw stones, this does seem like one of those “typical rap songs” that “glorifies sex.” I would argue that, after spending time with these lyrics, this song is actually doing quite the opposite. It describes sexual encounters with an unnamed woman, but takes a turn in the back half of the song.
In these lines, JID makes it clear that he knows he’s living in sin and has turned away only to turn back over and over again. To me, this is a perfect depiction of addiction and the cycles that they leave us in, continually doing the things that we don’t want to do.
JID again makes it clear that his interactions with this woman go against his morals, and that his time in Scripture has made him convicted of the sinful patterns that he sits in.
This track continues the smooth, vibey R&B sonics from the past few songs, with beautiful production and crooning vocals from artist 6LACK. On this song, the two sing and rap about their gratefulness for their “gangs” never switching or changing. It’s a sign of hope in a heavy stretch of the album, showing that even in hard circumstances, they’ve had people they can lean on and support through the struggles.
This is one of the cooler artistic parts of the album for me, mainly because of the overall structure of the song. Throughout the whole track, JID and singer Jessie Reyez have an entire argument, playing the part of a couple in a situationship, arguing about the hurts that they’ve inflicted on each other. By the end, JID ends up defending himself by showing how a bad breakup has left him a wreck, exemplifying the common adage that “hurt people hurt people.”
This interlude marks the transition out of the R&B-leaning third of the album and into a return to more aggressive rap tracks where JID will confront the ugliness around him and inside of himself.
Immediately, the beat and intro lines of this song show that we are no longer cruising through the streets of Atlanta—the bass-heavy track and lyrical onslaught is the perfect way to support lyrics about the “kill-or-be-killed” mindset that JID had learned growing up on the streets of Atlanta.
This is one of my favorite songs I’ve heard all year, and is definitely the most important track on this album, so we’re about to spend some time here breaking down what makes it so significant and impactful. This song is a three-part masterpiece, starting with a sung section from the artist Mereba before moving into a dense, stream-of-conscious verse from JID that sets up the ugliness he’s been trying to find a way out of, before landing in part three, where JID finally finds the resolution and purpose he’s been looking for. Let’s dive into some of the key lyrics.
To start off part one of the track, Mereba expresses JID’s desire to return to simplicity, before the hardships of life brought all the goodness and hope he knew to ashes.
Mereba’s next stanza invites JID, and the listener, to believe that there is hope—that through the ashes, a miracle of redemption can happen, as long as we believe. It’s a simple and beautiful way to set up the healing journey that he is about to go through.
Throughout part two, JID makes it clear that he’s been surrounded by a lot of darkness and ugliness for most of his life. He expresses feeling tired, losing his fire for life, and even struggling to view himself in any kind of good light.
JID plays with this reversal of heaven and hell multiple times in this verse in a really profound way. The wordplay is dense, so it could be interpreted in a few ways, but to me, it seems like it’s echoing the sentiment of the very beginning track—that JID is in hell, but still having his angel wings hold him up. Though he has God, he still finds himself in hell, but through that struggle, he continued writing, and found his purpose meeting people in that struggle.
In these lines, JID echoes Luke 12:48, which says “To whom much is given, much will be required.” By quoting this passage, the rapper is taking responsibility for the power and position he’s been given. He doesn’t let his talent and position of influence go to waste, but chooses to use it for good. The line following details how he had to “lose his life” to conquer his fear, which echoes many passages in Scripture about how “dying to oneself” is the only way to find life and meaning.
Part two transitions into part three with another preacher interlude, describing an unnamed place of hope and of deliverance from pain… the place that JID has been searching for but hasn’t been able to make it to during his life on Earth.
In part three, JID has a major epiphany, and sees the battles God has given him—all of the ugliness he has witnessed—have allowed him to lead people of a similar background to the “promised land,” just as Moses did in the Old Testament leading the Israelites out of slavery in Exodus to their own promised land.
In this verse of reflection, JID acknowledges some of the hypocrisy and double standards in his life, juxtaposing the time that he was spending with God alongside the weed on his nightstand. Even in his struggles and addictions, he continued to turn to God, and God had continued to meet him and be with him in JID’s imperfection.
Near the end of the verse, JID details his cycle of sin and repentance, continually going back to the things that he knew were disobedience. In the end, he is able to see that, despite his continual sin, God is still waiting for him every time he turns back.
The entire album ends with a spoken story from JID about an experience at church that has stuck with him since it happened. He details how a random man called out JID and his partner, and prophesied over them, telling them that God has their lives under control.
After coming to this conclusion, JID takes inventory of the good and bad in his life, taking stock of the consequences of harmful actions alongside the rewards that came from faithfulness to God.
Near the end, JID realizes the positive impact he has the opportunity to have on his community around him. He sees the cycle of sin and repentance in his life, along with the cycle of sin, hurt, and violence in his community, and sees that the light of Jesus has allowed him to work against that cycle.
The final track of this album sounds like the end-credit music at the end of a movie, a kind of epilogue of sorts. In it, JID reflects on his story, thanks his fans for showing up, and ends with a promise to keep showing up in positive ways for his fans and his family.
I’ve been on the fence on whether I'd wanted to write this article, unsure if it even fits within the brand or would appeal to my audience to write a piece about an album that is so jarringly different from what so many Christians would ever allow themselves to listen to. Despite that, the more I listened to this album, the more I could see the profound truth clearly being communicated with it. I love that JID is so authentic to himself and his story—he is unafraid to showcase the ugliness of his life, but also unafraid to talk about his faith in a direct way. He doesn’t clean himself up to appeal to a Christian audience, but he doesn’t shy away from truth that goes against a lot of the culture that he grew up in. In the end, I think this album beautifully exemplifies the struggle of a Christian—we know God’s goodness, and still end up living in ugliness, whether that ugliness is external, as it was with the streets that JID grew up in, or whether it is internal, in the temptations that followed the rapper throughout the album. We all do things we don’t want to do, but JID chose to show that the only way to find our way to light and healing is to acknowledge that ugliness, and continue to turn to a God who will continue to welcome us back with loving arms. JID didn’t feel the need to clean himself up to go to God and share his truth, and ultimately, neither should we.
Drew Kedersha
Drew Kedersha is the founder of The New Wave, a platform highlighting boundary-pushing Christian music. Currently based in Nashville, TN, Drew spends his time writing music, listening to a lot of podcasts, and going to class occasionally. Mostly, he just wants the good stuff to get heard.