| And you don’t hear none of those stations, for hip-hop and R&B playin' him,
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| ask why
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| In fact, where are those stations today?
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| Somebody better ask somebody that
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| The people that’s most affected, by this war
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| Are the so-called hip-hop generation
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| The Army is the best kept secret in the whole world
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| That every soldier gets his or her own private room
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| You can forget that old brown boot image of the Army
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| It’s a job like anything else, you’d love it, all the soldiers do
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| I remember how it started, remember the time
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| I was watchin' Rap City 'bout a quarter to nine
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| Commercial said the military givin' money for school
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| Caught the bus up to my campus, they were signin' recruits
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| And met this dude named Diablo (Hello), was some kind of vet ('Sup?)
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| He explained the situation told me what to expect, he said
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| (Now we’ll help you pay for college and train you for work)
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| Said I could take computer classes and could quit if I want
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| But best of all was the fact I’d have my own shit
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| I’d have my own space and have my own place to kick it
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| On top of that I’d travel, and visit the world
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| Hell, Diablo said the women overseas was the pearl
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| Didn’t even call my girl, let’s get it on fo' sho'
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| Signed my name, took some tests, and I was outta the do'
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| A true soldier for America, ready to go
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| On the road a vacation’ll be good for the soul
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| Don’t matter what they sayin' now
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| They lyin' what they say fo' sho'
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| They don’t play when it come to war
|
| They get down, they get down, they get down
|
| I showed up at basic training, but what a mistake
|
| Cause this motherfucker yellin at me all in my face
|
| In this dirty-ass latrine, fifty men in a room
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| Runnin' laps up in the mud at four o’clock in the morning
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| I’m scrubbin' toilets, doin' laundry, and feelin' the pain
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| If I didn’t know no better, I’d think «Boy» was my name
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| Same bullshit line so many bit 'fore me
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| Got a nigga twisted up in this illusion of freedom
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| Fuck this shit, I’m out tomorrow, made up my mind
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| Everything Diablo said I’m findin' out was a lie
|
| That’s when my unit got the call, the Commander in Chief
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| Wanted ground troop assignments keeping peace in the East
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| What a relief, I’m thinkin finally somethin new
|
| Shipped us off and twenty hours later, we was en route
|
| Touched down around eleven, the desert was brutal
|
| Then the ground split and caught us by surprise from the shootin'
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| «Engage! |
| Engage! |
| Open fire!»
|
| «Take cover! |
| Take cover!»
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| «Get down! |
| Fire!»
|
| Don’t matter what they sayin' now
|
| They lyin' what they say fo' sho'
|
| They don’t play when it come to war
|
| They get down, they get down, they get down
|
| Don’t matter what they sayin' now
|
| They lyin' what they say fo' sho'
|
| They don’t play when it come to war
|
| They get down, they get down, they get down
|
| It was all surreal, seen 'em blow the spine out his back
|
| In the minefield, we was reelin' from the attack
|
| Seen the MO’s hand upon the receiver, still attached
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| With an alarm on it, set off the beacon, then I mashed
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| Who the first truck, blood and guts splash in my face
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| Cuttin' kids down, couldn’ta been no older than eight
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| What the fuck is goin' on, who we fightin' and why
|
| Killin' kids, killin' killers, who the fuck is supplyin'?
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| I’m cryin' out for protection, but none of it came
|
| So I dumped in all directions 'til the heater was drained
|
| But that night vision shit wasn’t helping us win
|
| Caught a round of friendly fire, but it wasn’t so friendly
|
| We simply got lucky, headed back to the base
|
| Seen a soldier rape a woman, shot her dead in the face
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| Guts stuck to my clothes, body parts galore
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| If this a peacekeepin' mission, I ain’t ready for war
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| And now I’m back home bitter, and sick and contagious
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| And I’m knowin' we some bullies, that’s why everyone hate us
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| Still broke than a motherfucker, niggas is starvin'
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| And that job trainin' shit is only good for the Army
|
| I guess I should have been a CO, and kept up a file
|
| Shoulda listened when my homies said we murder for oil
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| Now I’m fuckin' with this wheelchair, ain’t nothin' the same
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| And I’m knowin' confrontation’s mo' than video games
|
| War is pain |