Put me in a serious situation, hope I get another chance To live life as I know. 4:30 was the time, I'm feelin' a pain in my chest; I guess I smoke too much sess. Makin' a nigga mo' slow off the doe in Olympian bubblin' under who. Where's the crew, thick mist in the trail? I'm feelin' pressure off the tess. Spine advertising swine on Channel two, when in the same breath You tellin' me don't eat from that plate, increasin' my blood. Outbreaks on my skin don't blend with the way I want this thang to flow. If I can help the cause, don't have to treat it with no tricks. You settin' me cancer on a stick, visualize destruction soon to come. Throwin' within this city we call Atlantis. Prayin' like a mantis everyday ain't good in the woods of Southwest. I stress in my rhymes...fighting for yo' spirit and you mind!
So what it be, like my brother be catching gangrene. The water be brown in the morning in my sink. Who that in my eyes, some Clampett eaten away by fungi? Another virus disease, at ease, quick to lead a strike against Haiti. When half your army in the bed with pains in their back, And behind their head Witch doctors giving more Medicaid but ain't no aid. But these ain't tha same from 'Nam, didn't give a damn, Who only wanted Saddam, now your hands numb. Can't run, old age before thirty. This what you wanted when you signed your (hand) 'cock on tha line. Fightin' for your spirit and your mind, service to my kind...
Seems like we're fighting for our spirit and mind. They got us fighting for our spirit and mind. Still fighting for our spirit and mind. We can't stop fighting for our spirit and mind.
Multiple stab wounds stickin' through, in the ol' school Cutlass Supreme. Thirty-five cents to my name and that's fo' a blunt, man. The way thangs goin' today I might as well be dead, so dread. The voices on the radio got me seamed. Can't put a smile on my face 'cause my pockets ain't straight, At least not the way I want 'em to be. Early as fuck, eight fifty-one. Last night I barely got some Z's, sleep, uh. I can't, ol' Burd in the next room havin' nightmares. It sound like wind blowin' when she weep, speak. I can't, I'm tired on the way to the slave camp... I utter very little words, I'm thinkin' about a ciggy I snatched From the jaws of death, a sack of crumbled herb ... Rollin' down Main Street, East Point, I swerve, Campbelton Rd, Southside. Eight fify-five, jacket at bus top standin', sweatin' but, I ain't Smilin'. Outside it's twenty below, fool, I'm ridin' to the liquor store. Closed, that's right, I go hotta at this beeso I know, Who work at the Texaco gas station, pacin' back down memory lane. Feelin' strange, can't explain, so bare wit' me please, Through this green light I sees. That tramp that gave me herpes, wreck, wham, crash, stumblin', jumps out. The ride empty the glock fo', five, D.E.A.D. Woke up handcuffed inside Grady. Tagged with an I-U-D, (intoxicated una dank,) I took two swiggs outts my deuce-deuce, old E. Now Stephen K-I-N-G had the story all wrong, Blood last five points, I'm gone.
As individuals, and as a people, we are at war. But the majority of my side got they eyes open wide, But still don't recognize what we fighting fo'. I guess that's what I'm writing for, to try to shed some light, But we been in the darkness for so long, don't know right from wrong. Y'all scared to come near it, you ignore the voice In your head when you hear it. The enemy is after yo' spirit but you think it's all in yo' mind. You'll find a lot of the reason we behind Is because the system is designed to keep our third eyes blind. But not blind in the sense that our other two eyes can't see, You just end, investing quality time in places you don't even neeed to be. We don't even know who we are, but the answer ain't far. Matter of fact its right up under our nose, But the system taught us to keep that book closed. See, the reason why he gotta lie and deceive is so That we won't act accordingly. To get the blessings we supposed to receive, Yeah, it's true, Uncle Sam wants you to be a devil too. See, he's jealous because his skin is a curse, but what's worse Is if I put it in a verse, y'all listen to some bullshit first. We ain't natural born killas, we are a spiritual people; God's chosen few. Think about the slave trade when they had boats with Thousands of us on board. And we still was praising the Lord, now you ready to die Over a coat, a necklace round your throat, that's bullshit. Black people, y'all better realize, we losin', you better fight and die. If you got to get yo' spirit and mind back, and we got to do it together. Goodie Mob means: "The Good Die Mostly Over Bullshit." You take away one "O" and it will let you know: "God is Every Man of Blackness." The Lord has spoken through me and the G-Mo-B!