[Chorus x 2]
What's the question?
Why are you flexin'?
Here's the answer; choice of weapons

[Stikken Moov 1]
Yo, The Remainz, kid, why you flexin like a bicep?
Heat on your hip just to get a rep; it ain't worth it
Just because you pack a biscuit doesn't mean you can't
Become another statistic; you figure it
Life's a gamble even for vandalz; I handle mine with minds
Only unless my chest is under pressure in a contest
The fear of layin' in wreck causes the stress
I have to adjust to this mess and pull when it's best

[Guru]
Yo, little big man, feelin' your oats because you're strapped?
Bustin' a cap at another kid who's black?
It ain't all that when the shots are flyin' back
You made a choice, and the choice you made was whack
Kinda tipsy, with the liquid confidence
Pullin' your pistol when it doesn't make sense
To be the bigger man you figure
But in the end, it don't pay when you're livin' by the trigger

[Chorus x 2]

[Guru]
Yeah, it's the master of the who, what, where, and the why
But, still, I got a problem with seein' my brothers die
I've been around and lived past the average age of us
In every obituary, a full page of us
The game is money, but what about inner wealth?
The mental, the spiritual, and physical health
But still, everyday, the city is a test
That's why some people feel a gun is the best

[Stikken Moov 2]
No doubt I pack protection, but every altercation
Or situation doesn't deserve blastin'; I mastered precisions
Choice of weapon - should I peel or peel out?
My choice of routes may decide my whereabouts

[Chorus x 2]

[Stikken Moov 2]
I pack no weapons then the seargeant bargin in
Ready to bomb a rapper like Saddam, Stikken Moov swarm
Ready to bust off, like Ron Jeremy, but I chill, G
Relax and consider lucky to live to see a quarter past three

[Guru]
That's why I wield the steel; yes, my microphone is crazy real
I'm not the one sellin' out to get the mass appeal
But jail cells are filled with my peeps
While the rest are gettin' killed in these ill-ass streets

[Chorus x 2]

[Guru]
So, pick your weapon - a mic or a gun
I make a sucker run when my tongue stuns; check it
Leavin' the spot, I seen some wild kids
One stepped to me, asked me to freestyle, kid
Meanwhile he flexed a burner on his side
I looked him in the eye, smiled, and walked to my ride
He was actin' kinda hard on the surface
I said to myself that it really wasn't worth it

[Stikken Moov 1]
Yo, you think you're all that, 'cause you pack heat?
Seein' your own brother play the concrete in defeat
Tryin' to prove yourself while you put the next man down
But what goes around, comes back, black; best believe that

[Chorus x 2]

You know what I'm sayin'?
That's all the real heads all over the world
That realize that this music is real
That we keep it real like that
Peace to all my brothers on the third
And all the real brothers in hip-hop
It's like a rap's new generation thing, baby
Peace to Guru
It's Panche, the wild comanche, suicide

Writer : ELAM, KEITH
Copyright : Lyrics © EMI Music Publishing