[Intro: sample from "Gladiator" (Solomon Childs)]
Some of you are thinking you won't fight
Some that you can't fight
They all they say that, until they aren't there...
Thrust this into another man's flesh
And they will applaud and love you for that
You... you may begin to love them, for that
Ultimately, we're all dead men
(What, huh, yeah, enjoy your classic, I'm tellin' you man
I need this to be big, you know, big, come on)
[Chorus: Solomon Childs]
I dedicate this to the souls
Who ain't never gonna get a chance to shine
Who got gut down try'nna climb
Who knows, maybe it wasn't your time
Who knows, maybe you needed more time
And if so, show me a sign
Cuz I'm still a part of this cold world
And gotta hold mine
[Solomon Childs]
Twenty three hour of one main, locked down
Vietnamese Contra with the four pound
Bing monster, time to lay you muthafuckers down
I'm living with the snakes, crocodiles
Intense like when a jaguar growls
Staten Island Finest, you cowards will now bow
And keep quiet, niggaz gonna have to pay me off
Or risk being exposed, you soft
A young general walks, I'm the new Marlon Brando
Red rag tied around my head like Rambo
West Brighton, New York City Commando
Institutionalized, wild cowboy, steel tip boots
Can't stop eating Oriental soups
Lyrically potency, that cause all kinds of larceny
Caesars, I throw a book in his mouth
Stop shaking, made 'em believers
[Chorus]
[Solomon Childs]
Thundering, rumbling, gangsta music that's comforting
Neighborhood world wars, with pipes, knives and 2 by 4's
Snitches, swallow in the hood, bitches, swallowing in the hood
Semi automatics for sale, holla if you good
My pedigree be military cargo
I'm try'nna see money like Oprah Winfrey and Harpo
Eastside, with Jahmoo and Franko
Hear the emotion, act up, get ya legs tied up
With bricks, floating at the bottom of the ocean
Boulevard, poetry in the motions
This is death with it's eyes open
This is raw coke, with your nose open
Eastside, nigga
[Chorus x2]