| 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! |