This for the soldiers, soldiers   Stay strong my niggaz   Gangsters, players   Stay up my niggaz, real niggaz      Leavin' the cut in a rage   Loadin' up my Mac, goin' to my crib, to get my 12 gauze   One of my boys just got shot, huh   Fuckin' around, in that million dollar spot      A educated brother didn't have no money for college he was taught   The street knowledge, part of the plan   To keep us fightin' in the street   Instead of becomin' a strong black man      Every two weeks I see Sam   Pitchin' out my check with no respect but I still don't give a damn   Because I gotta make my dough   My kill, rocked down, 'til I started seein' cash flow      Everything happens for a reason, choose the season   To commit the perfect treason   Who brought me to the land, of unfree man?   To move about and catch trout, by the dozens      Even had my cousin locked down, at the feet shackled   A one-way seat, to Milledgeville   Nigga this real, how can you kill another   When it's your brother? Still standing      I never thought about, talked about what I did   Just experimented life as a young Gump   Them days long gone, school bells done rung no mo'   Spendin' hours at the house in my favorite chair      Slow mo', custom funk fingerprinted to carry a hucklebuck   Feelin' stuck with the art that my skin carries, scary   If I ever had to plot again, needin' my stick   Yeah, gidgets to pidgits, moves to Philly and the crew?      Nothin' else to prove, fold a plot like chrome   Salt lick teddy bears in the college student's room   Speed, Gipp got that too   Watch that dude, inspect that fool, still standing      Unscathed, cause this is pain   This for soldiers to feel   MC's, are running out of things to say   Radio stations are running out of songs to play      Still standing, unscathed, 'cause of pain   This for soldiers to feel   MC's, are running out of things to say   Radio stations are running out of songs to play      On the sick side, of South Central   33rd Avenue, block 600   Workers have wash and car details   The ese's got the fresh Chevrolet's for sale      Twenty G's or better, the whole neighborhood tanked up   What? On the fortress walls, there is no letters   Buddha say, the Bloods are strictly outnumbered   They besieged, on the beats, Goodie MoB, run the creeps      Y'all can have the streets, asphalt caught many suckers   Slippin' on wet floors, we puttin' out the signs   On krokers, C I T Y, such a pity   Bein' suckled dry, like a newborn      On his momma's titty before I retired I hit twenty   True to cellulite with big room pesquite on the porch   Poundin', like cartoon Ennis, old school efforts   Through the Sunday down, Crenshaw sparkin'      Zoned out, off the ink, for life   Goin through time and metal detectors   I can't take my weapon   And I can't be no dope dealer      'Cause they be done put a hit out on a nigga, plus I can't keep up   With them keys, locked in the fo'-do'   Backseat drivers havin' out-of-body experiences   Wakin up, somewhere else, still standing      Yeah, each and every element that exists in this   Universe is manifested from a thought first   Through the inner mind's eye of the unseen power in the sky   Gave birth to Mother Earth and all it's worth to you and I      This most loved invention, my consciousness is an extension   Of Him, yet I'm flesh and bone with a mind of my own   To dig deeper than the surface, whether I learn   From your upcomings or your downfalls we all have individual purpose      It's amazing, how the streets do the majority of raising   Of children who end up dead before hearing what you said   And it's sad, so all I can write about is what I had   Interpretations of life good and bad with a pen and pad      It seems like abortion, when I just write a small portion   It's either crumpled up or torn without lettin the thought be born   Young minded, and blinded in those days, I didn't want to   Have a thought that I couldn't raise, nurture, and care for      Be there for, help prepare for, the times ahead   When someone doesn't agree with what is said, huh   And if they did, don't get all arrogant 'cause that's my kid   Just be thankful that it's good and somebody overstood      Now, the listener in here want the same flow but I gotta let it grow   Clever enough to let it go, if I don't wanna rap no mo'   And I'll make sure that no one ever forgets   It's immortalized forever, on wax CD's and cassettes      And when someone goes to the store and purchases it for ten   The life cycle starts all over again   And I was granted this music as my soul mate, to procreate   And give back what I was given, a life worth livin'      And I, am still standing, unscathed   Pain is for suckers to feel   MC's are running out of things to say, and   radio stations running out of songs to play, shit!      We still standing, unscathed   And pain is for suckers to feel, huh   And MC's running out of things to say