[prison in the background while ‘Pac speaks]
Yo Jackson! (8231549)
Yes (?), come on down
Hold the doors – let’s go!
8599 (?) close it tight
Lock it down
My homeboys in Clinton and Rikers Island
All the penitentiaries
Mumia, Mutulu, Geronimo, Sekon
All the political prisoners
San Quentin (who can save you).. all the jailhouses
I’m with you
One thug, one thug (How do we keep the music playing)
You’re listenin to the sounds of one, thuuug
One thug, one thug (How do we get ahead)
You’re listenin to the sounds of..
I wake up early in the mornin, mindstate so military
Suckers fantasizin pictures of a young brother buried
Was it me, the weed, or this life I lead
If daytime is for suckers then tonight we bleed
Out for all that, knowin that this world bring drawbacks
Look how this shit bump once I deliver these raw raps
Meet me at the cemetery dressed in black
Tonight we, honor the dead, those who won’t be back
So if I die, do the same for me, shed no tears
An Outlaw, thug livin in this game for years
Why worry, hope to God, get me high when I’m buried
Knowin deep inside only a few love me
Come rush me to the gates of heaven, let me picture for a while
How I lived for my days as a child; I wonder now
How do we outlast, always get cash
Stay strong if we all mash, hold ya head
[Chorus: sung + 2Pac]
How do we keep the music playing (yes, you got to hold ya head)
How do we get ahead.. (hold your head!)
Too many young black brothers are dying (yes, you got to hold ya head)
Livin fast, too fast..
These felonies be like prophecies beggin me to stop
Cause these lawyers gettin money everytime they knock us
Snatchin pockets lyrically, suckers flea when they notice
Switched my name to Makaveli, half the rap game closed
Exposed foes with my hocus pocus flows they froze
Now suckers idolize my, chosen blows
And mo’ money mean litigatin, mo’ playa hatin
Got a cell at the pen for me waitin – is this my fate?
Miss me with that misdemeanor thinkin, me fall back?
Never that, too much tequila drinkin, we all that
Make them understand me, if not I slang my posse
Everyone with me is family, cause everybody’s got me
Watch me paint a perfect vision, this life we livin
got us all meetin up in prison..
Last week I got a letter from my road dog, written in blood
Saying, "Please show a playa love" – hold ya head!
The weed got me tweakin in my mind, I’m thinkin..
God bless the child that can hold his own
Indeed, enemies bleed when I hold my chrome
Let these words be the last to my unborn seeds
Hope to raise my young nation in this world of greed
Currency means nothin if you still ain’t free
Money breeds jealousy, take the game from me
I hope for better days, trouble comes naturally
Running from authorities ’til they capture me
And my, aim is to spread mo’ smiles than tears
Utilalize lessons learned from my childhood years
Maybe Mama had it all right, rest yo’ head
Tradin converstion all night, bless the dead
To the homies that I used to have that no longer roll
Catch a brother at the crossroads..
Plus nobody knows my soul, watchin time pass
Through the glass of my drop-top Rolls, hold ya head!
[2Pac over Chorus]
No matter how hard it get, feel me
Get the weed, drink a drink, read a book
Watch the stars, get some pussy, whatever..
[Chorus repeats to fade]