i am a universal soldier walkin' in the path of the Math
|
after the aftermath i'm a still be a soldier in america's blood bath
|
look at it thru the wrath of a universal soldier you could never monitor my
|
craft
|
i am not a graft i am a original soldier walkin' in the path of the Math
|
|
now
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin outside yourself - is
|
that right
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin' outside yourself - uh huh
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin' outside yourself - uh 1 2
|
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin' outside yourself - ooh
|
|
well i scrapes the neighbourhoods lookin' for odd jobs
|
it's hard livin' like God in a world full of bobs
|
john doe's and jacks joe's and mary mack's
|
i guess babylon wasn't made for blacks now was it
|
well it doesn't really matter does it
|
cause it be dependin' on the who what why's and the whereabouts
|
and i'm a nigger that the world don't care about
|
mr outsider
|
it's all about bein' a fighter
|
use the guide to open up your mind a little wider
|
my mellow my ace
|
movin' from place to place all a nigger want is a taste
|
working on the docks wearin' a smock
|
i clock in i clock out about 5 o'clock
|
i keeps a calm disposition
|
so i won't arouse suspicion
|
but then i know what you're wishin'
|
that you could put a bullet in my head plate w/out all that red tape
|
and lead me straight to the grave
|
you're either a slave or Jesus got you saved
|
or you don't know how to behave but you're brave
|
a mixed up African w/a fingerwave
|
and the load ain't gettin' no lighter
|
even though i'm in it to win it i'm still a outsider
|
|
<chorus>
|
|
well back in the days they told me hip hop pays
|
so i says i strays aways from L.A.'s average
|
cause C.k-in' and B.k-in'* was bein' a savage (* refering to Crips and Bloods
|
maybe?)
|
and M.C.-in' and DJ-in' was bringin' the cabbage
|
now it ain't like a nigger talking hella late in the game
|
i'm talkin '80 ace deuce
|
nobody think about truce
|
no Menace no Boys In The Hood no Juice
|
it was more like Coolie<sp> High and
|
niggers truly die like they do
|
when i found out you got to choose your path i knew
|
not red and blue
|
the blackness is true
|
my tactics was new
|
that's when the practice grew and i flew
|
i wanted to be a rapper so simple and plain
|
from Los Angeles city of the big bang theory
|
where everyone is leery
|
now a whole mess of MC's fear me
|
but it's important everybody hear me
|
as i tell you about the unwanted man who got blunted and took what he can
|
and he ran
|
from city to city and town to town
|
bouncin' around like he's about to blow the world up
|
cause his mind's not dormant anymore his door's ajar
|
and his jar's full of somethin' else
|
now everyone knows that scarecrows w/velcro hair ain't real
|
yeah
|
but if your psyche is likely to be spilled
|
ain't no tellin'
|
you'll be sailin' across the seas like Magellan
|
way out your range and since i don't speak greek stranger
|
i'm a (?let me?) give it to you in layman's terms so you'll learn
|
i paid the piper i'm gon' pick the tune
|
but i don't listen to music like that
|
so
|
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin outside yourself - is that
|
right
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin' outside yourself - uh huh
|
you're gettin' outside yourself boy you're gettin' outside yourself - uh 1 2
|
|
you better run and hide yourself boy cause you can't provide for self
|
|
inside outside
|
that's what doin' it is all about right
|
inside outside inside outside
|
that's what doin' it is all about
|
|
now i'm a outsider but not like ponyboy
|
i'm Aceyaloney boy
|
and i transcend
|
?w/both hands in?
|
and i transfer the answer from w/in
|
and i strain and i gain the strength to bust a blood vessel
|
as my dirty thoughts mudwrestle in my head muscle
|
you got your lucky charm i know you believe in warlocks
|
you better be keepin' you door locked and bolted
|
say praise the lord as i raise the sword and revolted
|
psychological warfare for the holy
|
smoke your last bowl-y
|
your little ship a capsizes your rap dies slowly
|