Текстове на песни: Smif-N-Wessun. Other. Still Fighting.

Talking:
Anybody know what this place is?
50,000 men died right here, fightin, the same fight
That we still fightin' amoungst ourselves
...today.

Shiiiiiiiiiit
You know we like, we like crabs in a bucket out to get what we need. We hate to see the next succeed,
cause we too bent on greed. That's why we stare at each others pockets all we tryna see is what's in the next ones wallets.
Trap our selves in mental containment greed, ignorance, selfishness you name it. Chris Rock said a joke I think we all
over-looked you wanna hide your money just put it in the book. Cause we don't need shit consistantly, how we gonna be equal
in a economy. I was taught that the 5 percent nation was to teach the other 85 wasting. Energy in the wrong direction, so,
take a still. Present Smif-n-Wessun and together each can choose more, thats what the letters in the word TEAM stand for.
We can but we can't keep blaming the man he do it cause we let him keep the power in hand. And us in the streets that are
graduating classes looking for our sistahz with the ghetto asses. And some dude grind right to get they mind right. Clean
they money up and get outta the hood life. We give big awards to speakers not do-ers, thats how the hood work. They
bamboozled [sp] and fooled us.

Talking:
Steal their soul, killed my brother, always in my heart. Hatred, destroyed my family.

Imagen being arrested or shackled against your will. Imagen the trans atlantic, slavery was really real, only you aint
gotta imagen cause slavery was really real. Forreal where plenty died and many others were killed. I read about it in
history books when i was little, but it never said nothin' bout huntin or in until. Until me and the law began the bill
and started doin the knowledge they hide on the back of the bill. 99 aluminum not even filled as soon as the ball drop
we be up under their spell. Theory or not, conspiricy i can't tell, Biggie and Pac who got 'em shot? I can't tell. At the
type of information have yo ass in the cell too many messages in rap records prolly wont sell. It's like Writin' rhymes
like writin' my will. Got my freedom on the line and I fight for it still. I dont wanna be a lifer in jail reading
revolution poem by Mustufa Kalil. Tellin my lawyer that we gotta appeal because livin' behind bars like livin inside
hell. My man Rel came home from doin' 12 he touched down got struck down. Shotgun Shell. Oh well same story we tell. Man
I'm goin' back to Africa to fuck with Chapelle.

Talking:
Listen you take a message from the dead, if we dont come together right now its our world with them

(Thanks to Drew for these lyrics)