ฟังเพลงChoice Of Weapons

Choice Of Weapons - Guru

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

kid, why you flexin' like a bicep?

Heat on your hip just to get a rep, it ain't worth it

Just because you pack a biscuit doesn't mean you can't

Become another statistic, you figure it

Life's a gamble even for vandalz, I handle mine with minds

Only unless, my chest is under pressure in a contest

The fear of layin' in wreck causes the stress

I have to adjust to this mess and pull when it's best

Yo, little big man, feelin' your oats, because you're strapped

Bustin' a cap at another kid who's black

It ain't all that when the shots are flyin' back

You made a choice and the choice you made was wack

Kinda tipsy with the liquid confidence

Pullin' your pistol when it doesn't make sense

To be the bigger man you figure

But in the end it don't pay when you're livin' by the trigger

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

Yeah, it's the master of the who, what, where and the why

But still I got a problem with seein' my brothers die

I've been around and lived past the average age of us

In every obituary, a full page of us

The game is money, but what about inner wealth?

The mental, the spiritual and physical health

But still everyday the city is a test

That's why some people feel a gun is the best

No doubt, I pack protection, but every altercation

Or situation doesn't deserve blastin', I mastered precisions

Choice of weapon, should I peel or peel out?

My choice of routes may decide my whereabouts

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

I pack no weapons then the sergeant bargin' in

Ready to bomb a rapper like Saddam, Stikken Moov swarm

Ready to bust off, like Ron Jeremy, but I chill G

Relax and consider lucky to live to see a quarter past three

That's why I, wield the steel, yes, my microphone is crazy real

I'm not the one sellin' out to get the mass appeal

But jail cells are filled with my peeps

While the rest are gettin' killed in these ill ass streets

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

So pick your weapon, a mic or a gun

I make a sucker run when my tongue stuns, check it

Leavin' the spot, I seen some wild kids

One stepped to me, asked me to freestyle kid

Meanwhile, he flexed a burner on his side

I looked him in the eye, smiled, and walked to my ride

He was actin' kinda hard on the surface

I said to myself that it really wasn't worth it

Yo, you think you're all that 'cuz you pack heat?

Seein' your own brother play the concrete in defeat

Tryin' to prove yourself, while you put the next man down

But what goes around, comes back, black best believe that

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

What's the question? Why are you flexin'?

Here's the answer, choice of weapons

You know what I'm sayin'?

That's all the real heads all over the world

That realize, that this music is real

That we keep it real like that

Peace to all my brothers on the third

And all the real brothers in hip hop

It's like a rap's new generation thing, baby, peace to Guru

It's Panche, the wild Comanche, suicide