Lil Mark get shot, Lil Reese and them
Little niggas, it's hard to find peace in them
Chiraq, they say it's Middle Easterin'
Put your flames in the air for the deceased to them
Young soldiers who never got to become older
Dogtagged in the body bag
Police kept the knot he had
Plus he had weed in his system
Never knew at 13 they could enlist them
Momma kissed him, body was colder
She was shaking, I tried to hold her
Tears on my shoulder, he was supposed to
Be going to his junior year, this is his funeral year
Pall-bearers, all looking like kids
Some faces show anger, some show tears
No mustaches, no beards
Probably had the same aspirations as his
On a mission, staring in the distance
It never stop like the Muslims and Christians
We under-21 gun salute them
Just to go back and recruit them
I'm talkin' 'bout war

To all the killas and the hundred dolla billas
Real hittas who ain't got no feelins
To all the killas and the hundred dolla billas
Real hittas who ain't got no feelins

There's a war going on inside, no man is safe from, goin on
Going on, there's a war going on inside, no man is safe from
Or can escape from, take one wars from the same place that hate from
Gang wars used to be about the nations
Now it's cliques with clips and hittas is missing
They hit the innocent now they families miss him
Death do kissed him, in his last breath he wishing
But no option so he assume position
It don't stop, hittas killing women and children
Angels cried, that's supposed to be God's decision
Collisions of cliques named after rap groups
Except wearing Jordans instead of black boots
Black troops trade war stories reminiscent of glory
Walk the walk of those before me since I was a shorty
Seen slugs and drugs and unemployment
Terror town y'all was my first deployment
The life of a soldier ain't nothing to toy with
I'm living in this shit while the world exploit it
War

To all the killas and the hundred dolla billas
Real hittas who ain't got no feelins
To all the killas and the hundred dolla billas
Real hittas who ain't got no feelins

My basic training was aiming, hustling, banging, changing niggas up
Cause of what they did to us, nigga, I don't give a fuck
It's do or die in the Chi and I ain't lived enough
Hoping for some visitors of war, I'm a prisoner
Politicians they did enough, want to get rid of us
Hopped in the back as soon as the shots hit the truck
Looked at my son I could see his soul
Shot and killed at three years old

War!
We are at war! Writer/s: Lonnie Rashin Lynn
Publisher: Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind