What are you fighting for?
I would stand to miss the fists on the battlefield
among an army of red and an army of blue
And I stand tall and true
As I ask you
What are you fighting for?
This four foot by four foot concrete block
you’re arguing for and bartering for
is merely a prison without bars
That still manages to arrest you by
confining your mind
And you allow this corner to define you
And now you’re redefining yourself
by calling yourself a street corner entrepreneur
And I ask you
What are you fighting for?
You see now you’re standing on corners
I used to call my own corners
I once considered a safe zone
And now, I’m too afraid to let my mother walk to the store alone
‘Cause these streets
they’re covered with cowardly fake gangsters
And I’m angered at the nonsense
That rag on your head is somehow
keeping knowledge from seeping into your brain
Don’t you see that you’re dying for nothing
rather than living for something?
You’re self-destructing and just screwing yourself over
And I ask you
What are you fighting for?
You’re waging wars over something that never was and never will be yours
‘cause owning the streets is just a fictitious concept
that gets misused by hip hop dudes
trying to pass themselves off as reincarnated gangsters
So, contrary to popular belief
no matter how deep your gang is or how much money
you’ll think you’ll make from crack rocks
The only concrete rocks you’ll ever own
are the ones that come with steel bars
or the ones we call tombstones
So I guess the only decision left for you to choose is whether
the fabric in your casket should be red or blue
And I ask you
What are you dying for?
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