Testo Mind of a Souljah - Bone Thugs-n-Harmony
Testo della canzone Mind of a Souljah (Bone Thugs-n-Harmony), tratta dall'album The Art of War: World War 1
It's all about Mo Trues Humbly United Gathering Souls.
Babi Boi, my Angel, Daddy'll meet you at the Crossroads .
Babi Boi . . .
Mind of a souljah, mind of a souljah, release and feel me.
Everybody by now should know my label, my thugsta, these things guidin' your struggles.
All it is, is about this hustle, whatever it takes to piece this puzzle, why declare war on these fakers and haters eliminate us, traitors (...?...) These are the days of our lives .
Do or die, (that died to Boo--he go bye) whom die they lie in the face of our society.
Try at of every attempt to quiet me, I got a nation that's down to ride with me.
Here's the deal, can I get a witness?
It's deeper than survival.
Who am I?
My brother's keeper?
Yeah, I be clutchin' on my Bible, willing to die.
The wicked is near me, dearly departed, but nobody hears me.
Is we all gon' fall in misery?
It's so serious, it bring tears to me.
Ears to the street, like a drum to the beat, creepin' up my block.
I'm already knowin' a nigga wanna do me, so I stay strapped. (Don't pose for the cop), crooked cops, they gonna harass me, ask me the same ol' bullshit questions, knowin' I'm a thug with bud for days, keepin'
a pistol in my possession, but a thuggish ruggish soldier like myself gon' move on, and prevail, avoid jail, collect my mill with my Bones, splittin' domes.
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, don't make me hurt ya.
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, all about that bloody murder.
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, make a move and I'll have to hurt ya.
Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, come on, all about that bloody murder.
Baby Boi . . .
Mind of a souljah, mind of a souljah, release and feel me.
Still to this day, it's a struggle, addicted to trouble, we never goin' change.
Mom made us thugs, see.
Soldiers, I think we must be to O.
G. (?) loves thee.
Mama plead my family tree never helped a mother come up, seen it was hard tryin' to bring her sons up--they dwelled on the worse and ate nothin' for done up, comin' up, made it, eternal.
If I struggle, thank God.
I'm a count my blessin', trouble but never no stressin', just called it a lesson, 'cause life will be runnin' that test and better off in a cell.
See a nigga walkin' the streets, and they label us foolish children, 'cause I always knew this, while the rest of my days I be livin' in Ruthless.
Fuck what you're thinkin', law, my Judge is up Heaven.
Look at my stomach and see the "7," even scales is how I'm bailin', rebellin', tellin' y'all nothin' but a soldier tells, critic can kiss my ass.
I might go to thinkin' about my past, get mad, I reach in my stash and blast.
Fuck all y'all that treated a nigga like we wasn't shit, and soon as we
hit, now what do we get?
These fake-ass niggas tryin' to get in our click, all on our dick, but you can miss me, actin' phony in my presence, love it or leave it.
You can't believe it.
It ain't that season.
Get to steppin', hater.
Only Mo Thug allowed, say it loud, Mo Thug and I'm proud.
Mo Thug and I'm proud.
Loud!
Proud!
Loud!
Proud!
Baby Boi . . .
Mind of a souljah, mind of a souljah, release and feel me.
Better watch for the nightfall when them come, better watch out for the night stormers.
No light's in sight when them run, but then once we warn ya, caught ya slippin' up out of your game, playa.
Wasteland soldier, see what we facin', chasin' po-po on the hood like Jason, casin' your set, fin to blow your station instantly.
Fin to be World War 3 if ya fuck with my family, try to test the men, and we single-handedly take over your mind and the rest of the planet.
See, I'll be damned if we surrender, agenda's still no pretender, put it all down, make 'em all remember: deep in Hell is where I'll send ya.
Welcome to the Land of more indo.
We smoke.
We choke.
You know we blaze.
Break out any cup with the pipe, what's up?
Parlay, come around my way.
Lay keep it real.
Keep it real.
Peace be still, time after time, can't forget that money, man, that money, man.
Mo' money be on mind, bottom line.
Baby Boi . . .
Mind of a souljah, mind of a souljah, release and feel me.
Credits
Writer(s): Steven Howse, Tim Middleton
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