Kirk Franklin - Before I Die Lyrics
Lyrics
(v1:)
Right before I die I got to live, live out my dreams, so I can be what He planned for me,
not just for me but so they can see much more of Him and less of...
Right before I die I got to love my enemies,
forgive the past and set them free, so I can free.
Free up the things every blessing God has for me.
See its for me, not just for you. I had to learn from what I've been through,
I can't go through that way again.
Be hurt by You that way again, it's not the end!
(Pre-Chorus)
I used to be afraid to die, I used to be afraid to try.
Cause I was too afraid of knowing what failing looked like.
But the Son came to give me life, now I feel like I can touch the sky.
I'm ready, if you're ready...
(Hook)
Get up and live right now, right now, right now
Right now, right now, right now, right now
Get up and live right now, right now, right now
Right now, right now, right now, right now
Right now, right now, right now, right now
Right before I die I got to change
Change how I think, change how I speak, I'm not the same.
So when I speak, You don't hear the pain
No longer weak with no one to...
Right before I die I got to become more like You, take up my cross to count the cost
Cause I was lost, that's why I praise You.
You're the only God, I don't know what they do.
But I know!
(Repeat Pre-Chorus)
(Hook)
Bridge 1:
So the next time You think of me and You wonder where I would be.
Without each blessing that helped me to see,
life is much more than things and how You live is more than how You sing.
When I die what did I really mean, I mean.
Say what? Say what now?
As we proceed, to give you what you need
Somebody anybody, everybody scream
Bridge 2:
I used to be afraid to die, I used to be afraid to try.
Cause I was too afraid of knowing what failing look like.
But the Son came to give me life, now I feel like I can touch the sky.
I'm ready, if you're ready!
Hook 2x until end
Video
Kirk Franklin - Before I Die (Lyric Video)
Meaning & Inspiration
Kirk Franklin writes about mortality with a strange, frantic urgency in "Before I Die." Usually, we talk about the end of life as a quiet, reflective thing—a sunset, a closing door. Franklin rejects that. He frames death not as a destination to fear, but as a deadline to outrun.
I’m snagged on a single, repetitive syllable in the hook: "Right now."
He repeats it until the phrase loses its dictionary definition, turning into a stutter of anxiety or perhaps a desperate pulse. It feels less like a command and more like a heartbeat monitor that’s been kicked back into gear.
There’s a tension here that keeps me up. When he says, "Get up and live right now," the literal meaning is a frantic call to productivity—a "seize the day" mantra. But the spiritual implication is much sharper. In Scripture, specifically 2 Corinthians 6:2, we are told, "Now is the day of salvation." Franklin seems to have mashed the urgency of earthly achievement ("live out my dreams") with the urgency of soul-salvation. It’s messy. Does he mean he needs to be successful before he checks out, or does he mean he needs to be sanctified?
He says, "I got to change... change how I think, change how I speak." That’s not about checking off a bucket list. That’s an exhausting, daily labor of shedding the old self.
It’s easy to dismiss "Right now" as a generic motivational cliché. It’s what you hear in every mediocre seminar or pop song. But in the mouth of a guy staring down his own mortality, it shifts. It becomes a confession of fear. If I’m honest, I don’t want to be "right now." I want to be "later." I want to be "when I’ve got it all figured out." I want to be "after I’ve fixed my patterns."
Franklin is hitting on the truth that grace doesn't wait for our life to be polished. He talks about "taking up my cross to count the cost," which is heavy, theological shorthand for dying to oneself daily. That’s the paradox: he is obsessed with living before he dies, but the only way to actually do that, according to the Gospels, is to die to the self right now.
It feels unfinished. He’s pushing the tempo, demanding movement, but the "right now" feels like he’s trying to convince himself as much as he’s trying to convince the listener. It lands with a kind of frantic grace—the kind that realizes if you wait for the perfect moment to be holy or to be happy, you’ll be dead before you start. He’s not offering a soothing lullaby. He’s offering a frantic alarm clock, and I’m not sure I’m ready to wake up.