Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Military Minds, artist - 2Pac.
Date of issue: 31.12.2001
Age restrictions: 18+
Song language: English
Military Minds |
Stand in formation, my motherfuckin' real troopers |
Let’s do it like soldiers — all and together now! |
Ready? |
Hell yeah, y’all niggas better get ready |
No retreat, no surrender, death before dishonor motherfucker! |
Do it to 'em, c’mon never die thuggish, uh — YES YES YES |
Say what? |
(Eastside, Westside ride) Where ya at, where ya at? |
Where my real thugs, where ya at, where ya at? |
Where my real thugs, where ya at, where ya at? |
Where my real thugs, where ya at?! |
Hehehe, send cases to the drug dealer |
Real thugs, where ya at? |
You motherfuckin' home |
Do it to 'em, do it to 'em |
They love the way we do it to 'em, we do it to 'em |
Suppress the revolution of premeditated scheme |
Introduce a drug called crack to us ghetto teens |
Got a law for raw niggas, now, playa what it be like? |
When will niggas see they got us bleedin' with three strikes |
Can’t seem to focus hopeless, with violent thoughts I wrote this |
Got these Devils petrified, hidin' from my hocus-pocus |
And so I learned to earn my currency and over time |
Affiliated, clearly click a military mind |
May God forgive us though we dwell inside a paradox |
Thugged out and drug dealin', from the womb to the block |
My live mind got me survivin' five rounds (shots) |
My forty-five got me fortified with live rounds |
When shit’s thick we plot hits, when our Glock spits |
All hail, out on bail, wrath of the 2Pacalypse |
Forever ghetto necessary picture food stamps |
Outlaw Thug Niggas never left the boot camp |
They called us for assignment, one of the squad’s finest |
Skills in guerrilla warfare and blessed with refinement |
My rap sheet, contains sections of bomb sessions |
Says I’m responsible for black Smif-N-Wessun |
Putting likkle yout’s in a military state of mind |
Dangerous like chronic and yard when combined |
Cocoa Brovaz 'pon de borderline |
Test de sound and ye dead same ti-ime |
Man to man, I’m facin' the Devil with a plan |
Judo stance, first glance, I’m makin' my advance |
Animal instincts, intelligence of an assassin |
Masked men, ninjas that surround me, ready to attack |
I react swiftly, what father taught me sticks with me |
Never forget the method, stick and move strictly |
Shit be seemin' like it’s closin' in |
With no regrets I hold position |
'Cause I suppose I’m one of the chosen men |
Picture being put in a position to move |
And you can’t move 'cause your move is blocked by the knight |
At twelve o’clock, that’s when the madness begins |
So I start to focus in, my thoughts on the war |
'Cause the rule is the law, and the law that we live by |
Is to stay true to self, in this case, BDI |
Why try if ya body lie |
By the block true soldier mentality, this is how we rock and roll |
(This is how we ride) |
Stick and move, time to show 'em how to make a move |
Or get moved on, let’s see who strong |
In the gaze of the strange, where nothing stays the same |
Where new faces come through with similar game |
Now who you thought was them, really ain’t |
They catchin' deja vus of the game people play |
It’s a call for readjustment, fine tune yo' position |
You slippin' and trippin' 'stead of bobbin and dippin' |
But never let this world of stress get the best of me |
Takin' breathin' techniques, slay you with Tai-Chi |
What does it take, to get a break in the world of snakes |
And dose who fake |
Elimination I’m facin' destruction |
Outlawed, so I duck and down, fo'-fo' is bustin', no one to trust in |
Rushin' to the goal line |
Catch a nigga beat him treat him like he stole mine |
No swine I’m a soldier, soldier I control mine |
Time to, take you, back into time — follow dis here |
One way out, this black hole |
For this black soul, shit is outta control |
I’m fightin' for my position to be a fetus in this world I’m enterin' |
And my face is sentencin' for repentance |
Before my body was fully formed into a human |
I was already consumin' weed |
'Cause my moms used to smoke back in the 70s |
Maybe that’s why in the 90s I drop G’s when I drop degrees |
When I ease across the block with 'Pac |
Got all y’all niggas shocked |
You didn’t think Boot Camp Clik would link, with a Outlaw mind? |
If you do you press rewind |
And you can peep guerrilla tactics in every line |
Yeah, and this is how we do it! |
Where my real thugs, where they at? |
Let me, see my real thugs, now where ya at? |
Won’tcha, see my real thugs, where ya at? |
Let me, see my real thugs, where ya at now? |
Where my real thugs, let me see, where ya at? |
Tell me where my real thugs gots to see, where ya at? |
Where’s my soldiers — where ya at? |
Where my, real soldiers — where ya at? |
Where my soldiers at; |
where ya at, where ya at? |
Get yo' strap my nigga; |
where ya at, where ya at? |
Where my soldiers at; |
where ya at, what ya at? |
Getcha, thug niggas where ya at, witcha strap? |
Where my soldiers at, where my true thug niggas |
No longer drug dealers 'cause we now, thug niggas |
Where my soldiers at, no longer drug dealers |
'Cause we now, thug niggas, let me, where my |
Where my soldiers at?, put your pistols in the air |
Where my soldiers at?, put yo' guns up |
Tell me where my soldiers at?, put yo' pistols in the air |
Where my, SOLDIERS, my true thug ROLLERS |
Yes, it just doesn’t quit, YES! |
This is that real hip-hop shit YES! |
Fuck what you heard |
From the ghetto to the 'burbs, know we meant, every word |
Where my SOLDIERS?, where my soldiers at |
Where my SOLDIERS?, where my soldiers at |
Put yo' hand on the pistol, put yo' pistols in the air |
Where my soldiers at?, where my soldiers at? |
Where my SOLDIERS?, where my soldiers at |
Where my SOLDIERS?, where my soldiers at |
When Bob Dole and Delores Tucker wanna know |
Where my soldiers at, GO VOTE! |