these rhymes paint vivid pictures, of torturous figgas
stuck on the battlefield, battlin sum venomous niggas
no one cares about they minds, sand covers they face as they lay
not lettin the enemy know of their position, prayin for another day
the faces of the Iraqis, remind them that they are the civil enemy
so they load em with clips until they empty, doin their mission completely
persident said weapons of mass destruction gon leave america with no future
but is this shit worth it? we seein inncocent civilians goin thru torture
nigga i Iraq is kinda like hell, not the average oversea paradise vacation
they speak native tongues, and AK-47 is in teenagers every day vocation
we major but we still fear, that our souls will evaparate or disapear
its never clear, cuz the sky is the same color as the sand and sum beer
im lost in the predictament of should i kill or save innocent casualties
cuz niggas is killin visously, and makin muthafuckin brutal fatalites
its not a for malitlity, its just the way that they happen to live
and as a U.S. soldier, im over here to protect the lives of the kids
bush said they war is almost, i pray that he didnt just tell us a lie
cuz while he was out playin golf, mah best friends fuckin had to die
morpein shots are what we use to heal all of the pain and destruction
i mean lives are constantly on deduction, but blood rises up like eruptions
i swear to god man this is mah letter to u mom, i hope u get this soon
cuz i may not make until the next morning or sundeay afternoon
so mami if u happen to get this, dont write back ill probably be dead
these are mah real struggles, not fables that only exist in mah head
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