The Struggle Continues
Midori, plays the violin, She was magnificent
They don't have to say to white people;
I'm better than you, they just do their thing (YEAH!!)
And White Folk got to readjust their thinking
Because they thought that they used to master
All of these instruments and nobody else could
But the Chinese are mastering it, even the Japanesse are mastering it
All these things; are breaking up the mind of White Supremacy
Blackman, you don't have to bash white people
All we got to do is; go back home (Where?)
And turn our communities, into productive places
All we gotta do is; go back home
And make our communities a decent and safe place to live (YEAH, THAT'S RIGHT!!)
And if we start dotting the Black Community with businesses (YEAH!!)
Opening up factories (WHAT ELSE?) challenging ourselves to better than we are
White folks, instead of driving-by using the “N” word
They will say: (Look! Look at them! Oh! my God!
They're marvelous, they're wonderful, we can't..
We can't say they're inferior anymore)
But every time we drive-by and shoot, every time we car-jack
Every time we use foul, and filthy language (The struggle continues)
Every time we produce culturally degenerate's films and tapes
Putting a string in our women's backside (The struggle continues)
And parading them before the world (The struggle continues)
Every time we do things like this;
We are feeding the degenerate mind of White Supremacy
And I want us to stop feeding that mind, and let that mind die;
Their natural death. (YEAH!!) (*APPLAUSE!! CLAPS!!*)
[Verse 1: 2Pac]
Now, I was born as a rebel, making trouble for the devil
Take this gang bang shit, to a whole another level
Can you feel me now?
Armies in every city, definition of power
Players are you with me? - see the war is the prophecy
Survival is the strategy, rest in peace!
To my comrades that's deceased, organize the streets in time
You'll have these devils petrified of a n***a in his right mind
They tell us that we hopeless and hell bound
It's for the brothers in penitentiaries jailed down
I got you in my heart until the day I die
Think of the damage we could do, if we wasn't high
Can you picture me loc? - it's a thug's wrath
Political contracts and blood baths
For Matulu Shakur up in the Rikers though they got you
I'll never let them stop you, the struggle continues

[Verse 2: Fatal Hussein]
I gotta get out of town, see I done shot another Dick
N***a be rolling trips, to keep his mind off sticks
They check our parole, they supervise my whole size
Money wires surprise, drug dealers on the rise
These carjacks is federal, you soft and shreddable
Dictionary rappers you come at me all edible
I lit bash your crew, like you know what I'm about (Ha ha ha)
Guinness style 'cause Fatal done hit up another house
These props and pretty n***as getting played like pumps
Fucking up these fag fronts; fronting on blunts
Blast these bitch n***as bullshitting on a body
Kill n***as Brown it in me and you can ask Bobby
Slick shooter and looter, killer smoking Buddha
Man this dirty money can't get a little cuter
Money and hoes, money and hoes
Rest in peace and Al. Storm Murder Case has just closed
[Verse 3: Flip Side of O.F.T.B]
All I'm trying to do is make a penny
But crooked cops beating down my door like I beat down Reginald Denny
They're in position with they shot guns
But if they kick in my door like I know they catch the hot one
They kicked it in, so Flip got biz
Now I'm on the run living life as a fugitive
The cops was deep, they made a clean sweep
I tried to break but caught one in the ass cheek

[Verse 4: Big Syke]
A drug smuggler from the underworld, thugging Desperado
Visual locomotion from my Teflon hollows
Transgression racketeer, probation violator
Buster, tester, no fear for the Ingle, Watts slayer
My future is unknown, hoochies on the phone calling me
Parking down the street from my house trying to follow me
Boundaries restricted for a thug unconstitutional
Balling out of control from L.A. to Puerto Rico

[Verse 5: Flip Side of O.F.T.B]
I'm bleeding bad, and damn I need a doctor
But I can't do shit until I shake this helicopter
A gang banger, dope slanger, full of anger
I killed a cop now they want me on a coat hanger
[Verse 6: Big Syke]
We smoke Dope and soak Weed and greed ain't uncommon though
Dog I'm in need, indeed ain't no option bro'
Cookies and chips, I got a street education
My homies stressing out 'cause his babies mama is basing
What am I chasing a relationship with God or a female?
Secrets don't tell, I just posted bail
Fuck Jail and the C.O. from my n***as in the Pen'
Treated like a dog for his sin, fuck a friend
Let my '64 Benz blockade as I fade back streets
L.A., East Side Compton, Long Beach
Murderous, killers, lunatic kamikazes
We drop bodies and throw parties, the struggle continues

[Verse 7: The Low M.B. of O.F.T.B]
Fuck the pigs, they keep a n***a upset
'Cause if they see me in a Benz, I know them fools wanna sweat
I guess they think The Low M. ain't suppose to have shit
Try to pull me over, I'm going to kill that ass bitch
'Cause I'm from Nickerson Gardens n***a
And I know you heard; that we're all cop killers
My young homies love that shit like a sport
They're rather kill a cop than be in the basketball court
And we're going to stick with the hate
HUH! you think it's over 'cause you got rid of that fool Daryl Gates
But he's still in the back calling shots
So we're gonna stay in our hood killing cops