[Intro: sample from "Gladiator" (Solomon Childs)]

Some of you are thinking you won't fight

Some that you can't fight

They all they say that, until they aren't there...

Thrust this into another man's flesh

And they will applaud and love you for that

You... you may begin to love them, for that

Ultimately, we're all dead men

(What, huh, yeah, enjoy your classic, I'm tellin' you man

I need this to be big, you know, big, come on)



[Chorus: Solomon Childs]

I dedicate this to the souls

Who ain't never gonna get a chance to shine

Who got gut down try'nna climb

Who knows, maybe it wasn't your time

Who knows, maybe you needed more time

And if so, show me a sign

Cuz I'm still a part of this cold world

And gotta hold mine



[Solomon Childs]

Twenty three hour of one main, locked down

Vietnamese Contra with the four pound

Bing monster, time to lay you muthafuckers down

I'm living with the snakes, crocodiles

Intense like when a jaguar growls

Staten Island Finest, you cowards will now bow

And keep quiet, niggaz gonna have to pay me off

Or risk being exposed, you soft

A young general walks, I'm the new Marlon Brando

Red rag tied around my head like Rambo

West Brighton, New York City Commando

Institutionalized, wild cowboy, steel tip boots

Can't stop eating Oriental soups

Lyrically potency, that cause all kinds of larceny

Caesars, I throw a book in his mouth

Stop shaking, made 'em believers



[Chorus]



[Solomon Childs]

Thundering, rumbling, gangsta music that's comforting

Neighborhood world wars, with pipes, knives and 2 by 4's

Snitches, swallow in the hood, bitches, swallowing in the hood

Semi automatics for sale, holla if you good

My pedigree be military cargo

I'm try'nna see money like Oprah Winfrey and Harpo

Eastside, with Jahmoo and Franko

Hear the emotion, act up, get ya legs tied up

With bricks, floating at the bottom of the ocean

Boulevard, poetry in the motions

This is death with it's eyes open

This is raw coke, with your nose open

Eastside, nigga



[Chorus x2]