Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song War, artist - Jeru The Damaja. Album song Divine Design, in the genre Рэп и хип-хоп
Date of issue: 22.09.2003
Song language: English
War |
«We hold these truths to be self evident |
That all men are created equal |
And endowed by their creator |
With certain inalienable rights |
And when these rights are destroyed over long periods of time |
It is your duutyy to destroy, demolish its venom» |
(Applause) |
War, my skills is this spelled backwards |
I perform for the white kids but do this for the black kids |
To get this ill takes practice I’m takin' over |
The industry with ghetto verbal and tactics |
Hard times build muscle like lactic acid |
Some entertainers losin' they minds |
Makin' porns pissin' on kids |
The streets is ill save the theatrics |
I still treat a bitch like a bitch |
While y’all niggas is doin' backflips |
I can’t trip I guess it’s part of the game |
Like Ja-Rule bitin' my name |
Like MJ glowin' up in flames |
Like chickens suckin' dick for fame |
As things change I remain the same |
Tryin' to keep sane |
While many strugglin' to maintain |
The stress of ghetto livin' can bust ya brain |
It seems the road is paved with less joy than pain |
I wanna regress but I refrain |
If I don’t I rage war |
Right here in the streets of New York |
Some talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk |
Like Muslems at the corner store sellin' pork |
My little brother still outlined in chalk |
They went from forties to the champagne court |
Videos and true lies makin' all the birds squalk |
Little girls butt naked so the president’s stalk |
My man say he was god holdin' the devil’s pitchfork |
That’s why I’m throwin' rhymes like Geronimo’s tomahawk |
War, many shout it but don’t wanna see it |
I stay low and lay boobytraps like the cong in Viet. |
nam |
Loud talkin' and stares can’t do me harm |
Know some niggas wanna stop it I’m still droppin' the bomb |
Shit is death like Tennessaucee ring the alarm (ring the alarm) |
It’s still a mystery to you like the 82nd psalm |
Some fight 'til the end some sell out like Uncle Tom |
So much contempt others that’s flow with they jelly like napalm |
War, is more than hand to hand and firearms |
It’s only won when the mind is calm |
So I study Sun-Tzu and stopped smokin' chron' |
In my left hand riches, long life in my right palm |