This is about bronies. They communicate by stomping.
Uhh.. dear Mr. President
Whas happenin?
I'm writin you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected
Ain't nothin changed
All the promises you made, before you got elected..
.. they ain't came true
[2Pac]
Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
Send mo' troops, dear Mr. President
(Me and my homies is wonderin what's goin on.. holla!)
Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
Send mo' troops..
Why should I lie, when I can dramatize?
Niggaz fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized
Simply by spittin I've been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious
cause I'm seldom in the company of bitches
Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss
each and every trick or bitch, inside the shit I kick
My heaviest verse'll move a mountain
Casualties in mass amounts, brothers keep countin
Fuck the friendships, I ride alone
Destination Death Row, finally found a home
Plus all my homies wanna die, call it euthanasia
Dear Lord, look how sick this ghetto made us, sincerely
yours I'm a thug, the product of a broken home
Everybody's doped up, nigga what you smokin on?
Figure if we high they can train us
but then America fucked up and blamed up
I guess it's cause we black that we targets
My only fear is God, I spit that hard shit
In case you don't know, I let my pump go
Get ?ride for M'Thulu? like I ride for Geronimo
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word, in my letter to the President
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
(What should I do?)
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
[E.D.I. Amin]
Oh youse a ball in the White House, I hope you comfortable
cause yo I spend my nights out, with the lights out
under the safety of darkness, amongst the crazed and the heartless
and young soul bros, ready to rode a starship
Launch it, leave a nigga flat for scratch, the Godless
I gotta get chips, but you can't understand that
Wanna ban rap? Stand back, before you get hurt
It's the only thing makin pay besides smoke and work
On a mission listen more chips my goal and position
First on my decision I realized the same nigga
Trippin to drastic measures tryin to get stacks of cheddar
Muh'fuckers hate cops, wait it ain't gettin better
But you keep, tellin us, that it is
while your motherfuckin troops keep killin our kids, dig
Don't be surprised if you see us
Dumpin with nuttin but artillery to free us, motherfucker
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
[Kastro]
Strapped and angry, with no hope and heartbroke
Fightin first my trained brain until it's not so
It's hostile, niggaz lick shots to watch the glocks glow
Cadres of coppers patrol us like we some animals
And it ain't no peace, my peace a piece on my streets
to people beefin and things, squeakin on they beefs for weeks
Mr. President, it's evident, nobody really care
for a struggle out the gutter, twenty-two with gray hair
I was raised to raise hell, frail and my heart stale
So I'ma bring hell to earth until my heart fail
But y'all play fair, give me and mine, I'll share
Til y'all show us you care, it's gon' be mayhem out here
Me and these 223'sll freeze the biggest with ease
I'm still a nigga you fear, bring the beast to his knees
and I've been born to represent, for that I've been heaven sent
And I meant, every word, in my letter, to the President
Shit is still fucked up y'all
And y'all wonder when it's gon' get better
and it ain't gon' get better
[2Pac]
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up..
Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly
I wanna meet the President, but will he meet me?
He's scared to look inside the eyes of a Thug Nigga
We tired of bein scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealin
How hypocritical is Liberty?
That blind bitch ain't never did shit for me
My history, full of casket and scars
My own black nation at war, whole family behind bars
And they wonder why we scarred, thirteen lookin hard
Sister had a baby as an adolescent, where was God?
Somewhere in the middle of my mind
is a nigga on the tightrope, screamin let him die
Can't lie I'm a thug, drownin in my own blood
Lookin for the reason that my momma's strung out on drugs
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word, in my letter to the President
[Big Syke]
Blacks is broke, think it's a joke that we livin low?
Y'all sniffin blow and postin what they hittin fo'?
Tell the secretary it's necessary we get paid
Look what you made, little kids gettin sprayed
Day after day, and night after night
Battles and wars to the daylight
We might change and rearrange if you do somethin
Til then we gonna keep it comin, Mr. President
Hehe
And I meant every word in my letter to the President
[2Pac]
Word motherfuckin life
Fuck this nigga think?
Cuttin taxes, takin off welfare
We 'sposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starvin?
Motherfuckers crazier than a motherfuckin ??
Nigga this Thug Life, Westside Outlaw Immortalz nigga
We fin' to hustle til we come up
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. Clinton, shit
It's gettin harder and harder for a motherfucker
to make a dollar in these here streets
I mean shit, I hear you screamin peace
But we can't find peace
til my little niggaz on these streets get a piece
I know you feel me cause you too near me not to hear me
So why don't you help a nigga out?
Sayin you cuttin welfare
That got us niggaz on the street, thinkin who in the hell care?
Shit, y'all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks
but y'all ain't ready to give us no motherfuckin dollars
What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool?
We ain't stupid
Think you got us lookin to lose
Tryin to turn all us young niggaz into troops
You want us to fight your war
What the fuck I'm fightin for?
Shit, I ain't got no love here
I ain't had a check all year
Taxin, all the blacks and
police beatin me in the streets
Fuck peace
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Whas happenin?
I'm writin you because, shit is still real fucked up in my neighborhood
Pretty much the same way, right around the time when you got elected
Ain't nothin changed
All the promises you made, before you got elected..
.. they ain't came true
[2Pac]
Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
Send mo' troops, dear Mr. President
(Me and my homies is wonderin what's goin on.. holla!)
Tell me what to do, these niggaz actin up in the hood
Send mo' troops..
Why should I lie, when I can dramatize?
Niggaz fell victim to my lyrics, now traumatized
Simply by spittin I've been blessed given riches, enemies suspicious
cause I'm seldom in the company of bitches
Plus the concepts I depict, so visual, that you can kiss
each and every trick or bitch, inside the shit I kick
My heaviest verse'll move a mountain
Casualties in mass amounts, brothers keep countin
Fuck the friendships, I ride alone
Destination Death Row, finally found a home
Plus all my homies wanna die, call it euthanasia
Dear Lord, look how sick this ghetto made us, sincerely
yours I'm a thug, the product of a broken home
Everybody's doped up, nigga what you smokin on?
Figure if we high they can train us
but then America fucked up and blamed up
I guess it's cause we black that we targets
My only fear is God, I spit that hard shit
In case you don't know, I let my pump go
Get ?ride for M'Thulu? like I ride for Geronimo
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word, in my letter to the President
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
(What should I do?)
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
[E.D.I. Amin]
Oh youse a ball in the White House, I hope you comfortable
cause yo I spend my nights out, with the lights out
under the safety of darkness, amongst the crazed and the heartless
and young soul bros, ready to rode a starship
Launch it, leave a nigga flat for scratch, the Godless
I gotta get chips, but you can't understand that
Wanna ban rap? Stand back, before you get hurt
It's the only thing makin pay besides smoke and work
On a mission listen more chips my goal and position
First on my decision I realized the same nigga
Trippin to drastic measures tryin to get stacks of cheddar
Muh'fuckers hate cops, wait it ain't gettin better
But you keep, tellin us, that it is
while your motherfuckin troops keep killin our kids, dig
Don't be surprised if you see us
Dumpin with nuttin but artillery to free us, motherfucker
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
[Kastro]
Strapped and angry, with no hope and heartbroke
Fightin first my trained brain until it's not so
It's hostile, niggaz lick shots to watch the glocks glow
Cadres of coppers patrol us like we some animals
And it ain't no peace, my peace a piece on my streets
to people beefin and things, squeakin on they beefs for weeks
Mr. President, it's evident, nobody really care
for a struggle out the gutter, twenty-two with gray hair
I was raised to raise hell, frail and my heart stale
So I'ma bring hell to earth until my heart fail
But y'all play fair, give me and mine, I'll share
Til y'all show us you care, it's gon' be mayhem out here
Me and these 223'sll freeze the biggest with ease
I'm still a nigga you fear, bring the beast to his knees
and I've been born to represent, for that I've been heaven sent
And I meant, every word, in my letter, to the President
Shit is still fucked up y'all
And y'all wonder when it's gon' get better
and it ain't gon' get better
[2Pac]
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up..
Heavenly Father may I holla at you briefly
I wanna meet the President, but will he meet me?
He's scared to look inside the eyes of a Thug Nigga
We tired of bein scapegoats for this capitalistic drug dealin
How hypocritical is Liberty?
That blind bitch ain't never did shit for me
My history, full of casket and scars
My own black nation at war, whole family behind bars
And they wonder why we scarred, thirteen lookin hard
Sister had a baby as an adolescent, where was God?
Somewhere in the middle of my mind
is a nigga on the tightrope, screamin let him die
Can't lie I'm a thug, drownin in my own blood
Lookin for the reason that my momma's strung out on drugs
Down to die, for everything I represent
Meant every word, in my letter to the President
[Big Syke]
Blacks is broke, think it's a joke that we livin low?
Y'all sniffin blow and postin what they hittin fo'?
Tell the secretary it's necessary we get paid
Look what you made, little kids gettin sprayed
Day after day, and night after night
Battles and wars to the daylight
We might change and rearrange if you do somethin
Til then we gonna keep it comin, Mr. President
Hehe
And I meant every word in my letter to the President
[2Pac]
Word motherfuckin life
Fuck this nigga think?
Cuttin taxes, takin off welfare
We 'sposed to just sit here, go broke and die, starvin?
Motherfuckers crazier than a motherfuckin ??
Nigga this Thug Life, Westside Outlaw Immortalz nigga
We fin' to hustle til we come up
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. President, tell me what to do
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Dear Mr. Clinton, shit
It's gettin harder and harder for a motherfucker
to make a dollar in these here streets
I mean shit, I hear you screamin peace
But we can't find peace
til my little niggaz on these streets get a piece
I know you feel me cause you too near me not to hear me
So why don't you help a nigga out?
Sayin you cuttin welfare
That got us niggaz on the street, thinkin who in the hell care?
Shit, y'all want us to put down our glocks and our rocks
but y'all ain't ready to give us no motherfuckin dollars
What happened to our 40 acres and a mule fool?
We ain't stupid
Think you got us lookin to lose
Tryin to turn all us young niggaz into troops
You want us to fight your war
What the fuck I'm fightin for?
Shit, I ain't got no love here
I ain't had a check all year
Taxin, all the blacks and
police beatin me in the streets
Fuck peace
These niggaz actin up in the hood, send mo' troops
Lyrics submitted by spliphstar
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Bron-Y-Aur Stomp
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This song seemingly tackles the methods of deception those who manipulate others use to get victims to follow their demands, as well as diverting attention away from important issues. They'll also use it as a means to convince people to hate or kill others by pretending acts of terrorism were committed by the enemy when the acts themselves were done by the masters of control to promote discrimination and hate. It also reinforces the idea that these manipulative forces operate in various locations, infiltrating everyday life without detection, and propagate any and everywhere.
In general, it highlights the danger of hidden agendas, manipulation, and distraction, serving as a critique of those who exploit chaos and confusion to control and gain power, depicting a cautionary tale against falling into their traps. It encourages us to question the narratives presented to us and remain vigilant against manipulation in various parts of society.
Gentle Hour
Yo La Tengo
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This song was originally written by a guy called Peter Gutteridge. He was one of the founders of the "Dunedin Sound" a musical scene in the south of New Zealand in the early 80s. From there it was covered by "The Clean" one of the early bands of that scene (he had originally been a member of in it's early days, writing a couple of their best early songs). The Dunedin sound, and the Clean became popular on american college radio in the mid to late 80s. I guess Yo La Tengo heard that version.
Great version of a great song,
I Can't Go To Sleep
Wu-Tang Clan
Wu-Tang Clan
This song is written as the perspective of the boys in the street, as a whole, and what path they are going to choose as they get older and grow into men. (This is why the music video takes place in an orphanage.) The seen, and unseen collective suffering is imbedded in the boys’ mind, consciously or subconsciously, and is haunting them. Which path will the boys choose? Issac Hayes is the voice of reason, maybe God, the angel on his shoulder, or the voice of his forefathers from beyond the grave who can see the big picture and are pleading with the boys not to continue the violence and pattern of killing their brothers, but to rise above. The most beautiful song and has so many levels. Racism towards African Americans in America would not exist if everyone sat down and listened to this song and understood the history behind the words. The power, fear, pleading in RZA and Ghostface voices are genuine and powerful. Issac Hayes’ strong voice makes the perfect strong father figure, who is possibly from beyond the grave.
Punchline
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran
Ed Sheeran sings about missing his former partner and learning important life lessons in the process on “Punchline.” This track tells a story of battling to get rid of emotions for a former lover, whom he now realized might not have loved him the same way. He’s now caught between accepting that fact and learning life lessons from it and going back to beg her for another chance.
all of tupac's songs are about his non-existant problems that he claims are a result of the fact that he is black; (because i guess black people face so many problems nowadays)
Well, after almost no effort, i have come up with a life saving recipe to save these people (rappers who claim they're poor) from starving in an alley; ready, here it comes......
JOIN THE FUCKING MILITARY ---- not only do you get paid, but you also get fed,
OH WAIT, YOU'RE TOO MUCH OF A PUSSY TO JOIN THE SERVICE, I thought you were all tough and shit, guess not;
or perhaps it's because you have a family; well in that case your a complete moron; you're supposed to make sure have enough money and a good paying job BEFORE you start a family, not start a family and then search frantically for quarters and scraps of singles on the road (before ultimately turning to the the most shallow (and gayest) form of music ever invented)
ye, i rated u -1.. coz thats what u r!!
i dont feel bad for you coz ur ignorant. coz i suppose we are all ignorant, just at different subjects.<br /> its just unfortunate for you that u happend to pik sumthin u r totally and completely ignorant about to comment on. <br /> please stick to singing britany spears and hopefully someone will listen<br /> ("hit me baby one more time").. <br /> <br /> And why would anyone want to join the service and fight along ignorant, blind, uneducated people such as yourself.. to die in battle next to you for a country promoting greed and prejudice would be an insolte to my family. <br /> <br /> i wish u all the best in ur efforts to save the country with racism and violence..